


Dauntless

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Series: Haven [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action, Alpha Laura, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Frottage, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic-Users, Mild Smut, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatires, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Alternating, Some characters who died in the show die in this story, Violence, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Scott, show-level nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 79,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: Something fast and hot flew past his head, causing him to drop down to his belly. His heart in his chest, Derek raised a shaky hand up to check his face. Was that a fucking bullet? He hadn’t been hit. Fuck. How had these assholes managed to bring guns into the city? Where the fuck had they been hiding them? Exhaling shakily, Derek began to crawl towards the edge of the roof. He had to see what those people in black were doing. Carefully he wormed his way forward, curled his hands into the edge and peered over.--The final chapter of this Atlantis: The Lost Empire AU. The city is under siege and the only option is to fight for survival.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING** There's some parts where there's... its not the most descriptive violence but its still kinda toeing that line. Like Derek seeing what's happening and Stiles noting how some people have been killed and uhh... yeah. That might be too much for some people to heads up about that.
> 
> Also Derek's not in the best head space when he kisses Stiles in the ending bit of this chapter. But Stiles talks him down from doing what he wants to do.

Standing outside on the porch, Derek rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before announcing, “I’m going out for a run.”

He heard a few people murmur their acknowledgement, including Laura and his mother (the latter wishing him a good run). Derek jumped down the steps and began a slow jog down the path. Every footstep was heavy but sure. There were few people out at this hour. Most of them, Derek imagined, were either sitting down for a late dinner or were spending time with their families.

It was also his favorite time to go for runs. And tonight, was the _perfect _night for a good long run. He tipped his head back and inhaled. The air was so cold it almost stung but Derek enjoyed the sensation of the cold air flowing over his warm body. It was positively refreshing. His usual run went from home, to the stables at the edge of town, over the river, and back to home. It took him at least an hour and a half to finish. He had just crossed the river and was beginning towards home when he realized that Derek wanted to do something a little different tonight, something a little more fun.

One running jump later and Derek was crouched on top of a roof. From there he raced towards home, jumping from one roof to another. Derek found himself grinning as he leaped from one building to another. The entire city lay at his feet, twinkling like a multi-faceted jewel. Derek resolved to bring Erica with him the next time he went for a run. She’d appreciate this view. 

Derek was crossing by the town square when he heard a strange popping noise ring through the air. Right as he was jumping from one roof top to the next. His landing was pretty disgraceful but at least there was no one else around to see it. Curious, Derek raised himself up out of his crouching position and stared down at the square. Several other people had noticed the noise and were glancing around in search of it as well. No one here. He turned around wondering if maybe...

And just like that, there was another string of popping noises, followed by a blood curdling scream. There were several loud bangs accompanied with bright flashes of light. Derek raised a hand to cover his eyes before lowering them. Fear made his feet stick to the rooftop before a scream jarred him loose. 

He darted towards the growing commotion immediately, jumping from rooftop to rooftop as people began to come out into the streets to see where the noise was coming from. “Get back inside!” Derek yelled down at them, “Stay inside! Lock your doors!” 

There was a orange glow pulsing near the heart of the commission, followed by a familiar smell drifting his way with the wind. Fire. Someone had set the town on fire. This was bad. The popping noises grew louder. It was moving towards him. It was so _loud_. What the hell was making all that racket? And _who _had set that fire? What the hell was going on? And as he jumped the final roof and stared down into the streets, Derek felt like someone had pulled the rug out from underneath his feet.

It was the humans they'd let into the city. They were dressed in black military garb and split into groups. The biggest group was at the front, all of them armed with guns. Behind them were the magic users, holding fireballs and other magical weapons in their hands. Behind them was a small group of seven people. And behind them, the smallest group that Derek couldn’t make out yet. They were just too far away. He'd have to jump over a couple more houses to get close enough to-

Something fast and hot flew past his head, causing him to drop down to his belly. His heart in his chest, Derek raised a shaky hand up to check his face. Was that a fucking bullet? He hadn’t been hit. Fuck. How had these assholes managed to bring guns into the city? Where the fuck had they been hiding them? Exhaling shakily, Derek began to crawl towards the edge of the roof. He had to see what those people in black were doing. Carefully he wormed his way forward, curled his hands into the edge and peered over.

The first group was moving carefully but swiftly down the streets, killing indiscriminately. It didn’t seem to matter to them who came in front of them. They were gunned down anyways. And most of the people who came in their path were people who were stepping out of their homes to see what all the noise was. But they weren’t the gunmen’s only targets. Horror flooded him when he saw a trio kick one of the doors down and walk in. There was a short burst of gunfire before the trio stepped out, their boots leaving bloodied prints down to the street.

Derek watched one of the magic users laugh and throw out a pale blue ball of magic at a running shifter. It connected with the woman’s arm and she froze in place. Unable to move, the woman began to tip forward. There was more gunfire. The woman fell down dead in a pool of her own blood. Derek looked away, nausea tilting his world sideways. This was a fucking massacre. Swallowing down his bile, Derek forced himself to look at the other group, the one that was walking behind the magic users and gunmen. They didn’t seem to be armed. However, they all had large pouches attached to their belts. They remained behind the larger groups until someone called them to the front.

One of the gunmen pointed at a large house. The man nodded, digging his hand into the pouch and pulling out a fistful of something dark. A chill raced down his spine when he saw the man began to circle the building, dropping a thin dark line of dust behind him. Derek couldn’t be sure from the distance, but it looked like they were using mountain ash. But that wasn't possible! How could these people know about mountain ash? How could they know how to use it?

And then he got his proof when one of the families came rushing out the door and crashed into a barrier, blue light pulsing at the contact. His breath caught in his throat when one of the gunmen whipped her cap off. His stomach sank; he’d seen her only yesterday when he’d left Stiles at his cottage. She had been sitting at the doorstep of the cottage across from Stiles’ and she’d watched him kiss Stiles goodbye and walk away. 

Helplessness and anger crashed in him when he saw the woman accept a bottle from one of her comrades. She pulled a lighter out of her pocket, ignoring the pleading shouts of the family trapped inside the mountain ash. Fire licked up the rag that ran into the bottle. The woman grinned and threw the flaming bottle at the house.

His claws dragged against stone when the bottle collided with the thatched roof. In less than a second, the dry roof burst into flames. A painful, angry roar threatened to break free from his chest when high pitched screams began to rise from inside. There were _children _in there! But he couldn't...He should help... but if something happened to him then who would... He had to tell his mother. The other leaders needed to be alerted of this threat. That was the best way to help his people.

The group was moving forward now. The larger group was starting to break into smaller parts as they began to move down the smaller roads. Shit. If they kept this up and managed to spread out far enough...That thought came to a halt when the last group, the one behind the people using mountain ash, came into view. Derek felt his eyes grow wide. It was the leaders of the camp! The old man and his daughter! They’d come to meet his mom the day after Stiles had found the city! 

He hadn’t been there when they'd met his mom but Laura had scowled heavily and told him that something about the pair hadn’t struck her right. “They felt like wolves in sheep’s clothing. I don’t trust them.” And while he hadn’t met the pair – in fact, he’d only caught a glance at them while they’d been led to his mother’s office – Derek still understood what Laura meant.

“Kill them all!” the old man was shouting, bald head shining in the fire’s light, “Make sure not a single one of these animals survive!”

The lady smirked, “You heard him!” As she turned to address the woman standing next to her, something gleamed against her chest. It looked like a necklace. He _really _had to get back and warn the others. With great difficulty, Derek took a step back. There was no time to lose. He had to warn the Council, raise the alarm, and mobilize their people. 

Turning to face home, Derek spared a thought for Stiles. Had the human known this was going to happen? And then a more chilling thought penetrated through the horror: was he part of the group? Most of them were wearing masks so there was no way to know- 

Derek ran from rooftop to rooftop, swearing to himself as the fire and screams grew louder and louder behind him. His body was aching with exertion by the time he arrived at his house. He literally crashed through the front door, shouting, “We’re under attack!”

Several voices cursed, a few items dropped to the floor, and his mother choked on a swallow of water. Derek followed the sound to the living room, where Laura was gently thumping their mother on her back,

“What?” She asked Derek in between coughs, impatiently waving her hand at Laura to stop. "Explain yourself."

Derek hurriedly explained what he’d seen - the shooting, the mountain ash, the growing fire, the humans, everything. Talia was on her feet in a heartbeat, eyes flashing as she barked out instructions. “Cora, I need you to alert the rest of the Council members. Isaac, I need to go to the other houses and tell the rest of the families. Tell them to make for the forests. Come find us as soon as you’ve gathered everyone. Erica, go find the water nymphs and ask them to help put out the fires. And all of you spread the word, tell anyone who’re ready to fight to meet in the town square. Derek, find Deaton and tell him what’s happened.”

“What about you?” Derek asked, ignoring the sudden pandemonium erupting around him as people scrambled out the door. 

She was pulling her clothes off, face half changed, “Laura and I are going to go ahead. Face the leaders and see if we can do some damage. At the very least we’ll keep them from progressing further. Cora, tell the Council members to gather all the people they can in the town square. And if they come across the humans? Engage them immediately. We have to stop them, hard and fast. As for the people in the square, as soon as we have enough people, we’ll push into the streets. We have the numbers advantage.”

Derek bit down on his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that there was no point to having a numbers advantage when the other party had _guns_. Guns _and _magic users. This was going to be an ugly battle. Cora stormed out like a hurricane, shouting at their stable boy to get her horse ready.

“What about Boyd?” Erica asked, face pale but determined as she lingered by the door, “He’s still out there.” 

Derek whipped around, “What?”

“Peter was acting weird so we told Boyd to trail him. That was, an hour ago? Maybe more, I don’t know.”

Worriedly, Derek turned to stare out the window. A faint orange glow was starting to light up the far end of the sky; the fire was growing. He hoped Boyd and Peter were safe, wherever they were. Hopefully they wouldn’t run into the humans invading their city and would find a place to hide.

“We can only hope for the best,” Derek grit out, fangs dragging against each other. If they were _really _lucky, they’d run into the pair soon. Derek only hoped that Boyd would stick close to Peter. If there was anyone who had a knack for getting himself out of sticky situations, it was his Uncle Peter. 

His mother and Laura had shifted into their wolf form, shaking themselves before trotting up to Erica. Erica dropped to her knees in a heartbeat, sitting still as her alpha scented her. Laura had trotted up to him, golden eyes warm and steady. Derek knelt down in front of her and hugged her as tightly as he could. 

“Be safe,” He murmured into her fur, “And don’t do anything stupid.” Laura chuffed and snapped her teeth too close to his ear, but Derek didn’t flinch. “I’m serious. I know you like taking risks and all but don’t do anything stupid. And look after mom.” 

His mom walked over to him, whined softly before pressing her nose into his cheek. Derek opened an arm to embrace her as well. He buried his face into her fur, breathed in her scent and took strength from it. 

“Be safe.” He repeated as he let go of the pair. 

Laura and Talia turned and ran out, quickly disappearing into the shadows. 

“We’d better get going too.” Erica pointed out, face and voice tight. “Keep an eye out for Boyd will you?”

“Of course I will.” 

With a nod, Erica ran out the door and headed to the stables as well. Derek however, ran after his mother and Laura. Quickly he calculated the shortest route to Deaton’s apartment, which happened to be right above his shop and office. It should take him ten minutes of solid running to get there. Derek only hoped that the humans hadn’t moved that far into the city yet. As he ran, his thoughts went back to Stiles. Was it possible that the human had played him? That everything... the affection, the interest in Derek had all been a ruse? Deception meant to get Derek to let his guard down?

‘_Or maybe they didn’t know this was going to happen and are stuck somewhere too. Just like Boyd.’ _Guilt crept through his paranoia. That was a possibility. But his paranoia was stronger. There was a possibility that Stiles had played him, that Derek had let himself trust Stiles too much, too fast. The only solution to stop himself from pursuing that avenue of thought would be to find Stiles and his friends. But as he ran, he didn't catch sight of Stiles. There were only residents rushing out of their homes. Families running out the door with bags on their shoulders, running away from the fire. Many people had pulled carriages and carts into the streets and were helping women, children, and the elderly into them. 

Most of the men however, were running towards the heart of the city – the town square. Derek caught sight of many familiar faces as he ran. Everyone who could shift had shifted. They were running into the battle with their true faces on. He tried not to listen to the rumors and shouts flying back and forth. Derek had a job to do. Find Deaton, tell him what happened. He hoped Deaton would tell him they were going to join in the fight. His claws were _itching _with the desire to take down the humans who had the gall to take advantage of his mother’s hospitality. Relief filled him as he saw Deaton’s office was still standing. The humans hadn’t made it this far yet. 

People were rushing out of their stores however, armed with weapons - magical and otherwise. And the door to Deaton’s office stood wide open. Derek sent a quiet prayer to the moon goddess for his family and pack as he pushed his way through the crowd. 

‘_Please keep them all safe,’ _Derek prayed as he stepped up in. Deaton stood behind the counter, handing out chalk and small oil bottles as he reminded everyone to stick with their partner and to exercise caution. 

“Do _not _drain yourself! You’ll be of no help if you use too much of your magic!” Deaton was warning over and over again.

Derek pushed his way forward, mumbling hurried apologizes. 

“Derek,” Deaton greeted him, gesturing for the crowd to give way. “What’s happened? I’ve been hearing too many rumors.”

“The humans we let in are attacking the city. They’ve got guns, magic, and mountain ash. They’re killing everyone in their path.” The crowd around him gasped. A few people cursed loudly. Derek nodded and continued, “Mom and Laura went to fight them, hold them off. I think they’re going to try to lead the humans to the town square where the rest of our people are gathering. Cora gone to warn the other leaders. Erica went to get the fae’s help. If we’re lucky, they’ll tell one of their kelpies to go to the lake and come back with reinforcements.” Kelpies had the power to travel between large bodies of water. And with their fondness for water nymphs, a few of them often visited the nymphs living near the pond in the park. With any luck, the water horses would join in the fight. 

Deaton nodded and addressed the rowdy crowd, “Alright. We need to get out there and help defend our town. If you’re pack aligned, you can draw on your pack for strength and support. And I will remind you again, _do not _drain your magic!”

The crowd began to shuffle out, voices mixing together into a painful cacophony. Deaton pulled the divider up and gestured for Derek to come in. Together they walked into the examination room. Derek watched Deaton pull a key out of his pocket and use to open the cabinet that Deaton rarely opened.

Deaton wasn’t even checking the labels as he put bottle after bottle into his bag, face set in determination, “What are you going to do?”

“My job,” Deaton replied immediately. “I’m going to go find your mother and help her. It’s my duty as her Emissary. I’ll need you to protect me while I break the mountain ash circles they've made.”

Derek nodded, opening his mouth to say something but a loud crash from the front of the store stopped him. The pair flinched and jerked towards the sound at the same time. Snarling, Derek crouched low into a defensive position. Had the humans made it this far into the city already? Shit. This was possibly the worst place to get trapped. Did Deaton even have a back door that they could sneak out off?

Then to his surprise, Derek heard Boyd’s panicked voice call out, “Deaton! Are you in here? Deaton! We need help!”

The emissary darted past him immediately. Derek followed after a surprised beat. 

His surprise (and relief) only grew when he saw Boyd and Stiles dragging a comatose Scott into the clinic between them, with Allison and Lydia flanking the rear, next to an unfamiliar looking man with tanned skin. Allison had a crossbow in her hands, aimed into the streets while Lydia stood clutching her bag tightly against her hip. Despite the distance between them, Derek could smell the chemical scent of explosives coming from Lydia’s bag. The stranger was clutching a knife in his hands, body tense as he stared out into the empty street.

“What happened?” Deaton asked, guiding everyone into the examination room. Derek stepped back to make room for Boyd and Stiles to pass through. He could hear the others shuffling in behind him, “Lock the door behind you.”

Derek watched the man slam the lock in place with shaking hands before hurrying after the others.

“Some wackos attacked Scott and Allison when they were out for a walk,” Stiles helping Boyd heft Scott up onto the examination table. “We think it might have been someone from our group. They had poisoned blades. Wolfsbane. They missed everything important but still got him pretty good. Peter said that you’d be able to help. So.” 

“Peter?” Derek asked sharply, “You met Peter? _When _?”

Stiles jumped, turning his surprised face towards Derek, “You’re here too? When did you… Never mind. Yeah! He was waiting for me in my room. Wanted to talk to me.” He took a few steps forward, until they were within arm’s reach and asked in a lower voice, “Are you okay?”

Derek nodded, reaching out to touch Stiles’ arm. He could almost _melt _in relief; Stiles wasn’t part of the attack. He hadn’t misplaced his trust after all. “I’m fine. You?” 

“Pretty shook up,” Stiles laughed weakly, “First I had to deal with your uncle and then we thought the city was on fire. But then we found out what the hell was going on and… I was just _really _glad Lydia forced me to take that energy tonic before we left or else I’d be dead on my feet.”

Boyd stepped up next to them, a muscle in his jaw jumping as Deaton asked Allison to help him with Scott. The emissary pulled back one of the bandages wrapped around Scott’s arm, inspecting the wound underneath. It smelled like rotting flesh and gone-off eggs. Allison swiftly unbuttoned the short sleeved shirt Scott was wearing, revealing more bandages. How many times had the man been stabbed? 

“We nearly ran into Cora and Isaac on our way here,” Stiles was going on, “They told us that our camp had gone bat shit nuts and were attacking the city.” 

“Is it true?” Boyd asked dark eyes filled with worry, “Cora said that you saw them killing people?"

Boyd’s face turned pale the second Derek nodded. His hand dropped on Boyd’s shoulder immediately in reassurance, “Your family is going to be alright. They’re by the house and that’s clear on the other side of town from where the humans are attacking. They’re probably in the forest already. They’ll be safe.” 

It was unusual but the human families associated with the Hale pack lived close to their manor. In the area behind the main house actually. Boyd and his family - his mother, nanna, sisters and little brother – lived in the wooden cottage a short walk away. Derek was confident that the maids and servants had already warned the others and they had made off to safety after closing the house.

“Mom and Laura are out there, along with the rest of the Council and our people,” He quickly and quietly reassured his pack brother, squeezing Boyd’s arm tightly to ground him, “They’ll be alright. _We’ll _be alright. We can do this. We just need to keep our heads together.”

“And you’ve got us helping too,” Stiles offered quietly, “We’re not going to let the others get away with this. You’ve got my word on that.”

For a moment, Derek stared at Stiles and wondered if he meant it. And then he saw the hard glint in Stiles’ eyes and knew that Stiles meant every word. He was going to help them fight.

“Derek, Boyd,” Deaton interrupted, “I’m going to need your help holding Scott down.” The emissary was waving off the smoke rising out of his mortar. He’d already burn the wolfsbane then.

Exhaling shakily, Boyd squeezed his eyes shut for a second before nodding, “Okay.” He said quietly before taking a step back, “Okay.” 

With his hand on Boyd's back, Derek walked up to the table. He was surprised when Stiles walked up to the table as well, one hand wrapping around Scott’s upper arm while the other pressed into the werewolf’s chest. The more help the better Derek supposed as he pinned Scott's legs to the table while Boyd held down Scott's other arm.

“Why do we need to hold him down?” Stiles asked, eyes moving between Derek, Boyd, and Deaton as fast as a hummingbird.

The time it took for Derek and Boyd to exchange a look, silently wondering whether or not to answer Stiles’ question, Deaton moved in and pressed a pinch of the burnt wolfsbane into one of the cuts on Scott’s legs. Scott immediately shifted and howled in pain, body thrashing underneath the three sets of hands holding him down. 

“Holy shit!” Stiles yelped, throwing his body down on Scott while Derek grit his teeth, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Burning the wolfsbane out,” Deaton answered calmly, moving onto the next wound, “The only way to remove it from his system.”

He slapped another pinch of burnt ash into a cut and pressed his palm on top of it. Scott roared again, thrashing harder this time. Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw the other man, Allison and Lydia dart forward to help as well. Scott kept thrashing but thanks to their combined effort they managed to keep him on the table. It was easier to keep him pinned down when they’d flipped him over to let Deaton access the cuts on his back. 

After the last cut disappeared, the skin knitting itself back, Derek took a step back. Feeling oddly breathless, he shifted to the side and felt his shoulder brush up against another person. Turning, he and Stiles blinked at each other for a moment before looking down at the table where Scott was coughing into the cold metal.

“That _hurt _,” Scott whined, shaking hands pressing down on the table as he hefted himself up. Allison helped him sit up, rubbing a soothing hand over his back until he stopped coughing, “I _never _want to do that again.” 

“You and us all, buddy,” Stiles joked weakly, slapping Scott’s shoulder. Scott smiled faintly in return, hand reaching out to clasp Stiles’ wrist and squeeze. With his other hand he pulled Allison closer to him.

That dealt with, they needed to deal with the larger problem. “Deaton,” Derek said, “I’ll take you to my mother, if that’s what you want.”

That caught everyone’s attention, “Whoa, wait! Slow down!” Stiles made a timeout gesture. “You’re gonna take the healer where? And where _exactly _is your mom?”

“I’m not _just _a healer, Stiles.” Deaton explained. “I’m also the pack’s Emissary. It is my duty to help my alpha and right now. She needs my help.”

“You’re a… of course. I should have known. I should have _known_!” Stiles slapped his forehead before asking Derek, “So? Where’s you mom? I’m guessing she’s out there somewhere?”

Derek nodded, “She said she and Laura were going to try keep the humans from getting too far into the city. Isaac and the rest of our pack should be there helping. The other packs and people are organizing in the town square.”

“The few humans we have who can wield offensive magic are already out there as well,” Deaton added, handing Scott two bottles filled with a pale, pale green liquid. “Drink these Scott, they’ll help you get your strength back up.”

Stiles held his hand up, “Can I get one of those too? I’m going to need my strength if I’m going to fight.”

_That _caught Derek’s attention. He reached out to grab Stiles’ arm, “Why? And you’re not going out there.”

Blinking, Stiles looked down at Derek’s hand before replying, “Uum, yes I am? Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

“Because this doesn’t concern you!” 

More than that, Derek didn’t want Stiles to get hurt. 

“It _totally _concerns me!” Stiles snarled, rage flashing behind his eyes, “These guys went after Scott! I’m gonna make them pay!”

“Do you even know how to fight?” 

Stiles flipped him off before answering, “Of course! I’m not _just _a linguist! We all know how to hold our own. Except maybe Danny. Sorry Danny.”

“Well you’re not wrong,” Danny drawled from his corner, “I’m the one who’d like to stay out of this fight as much as possible but I think I’ll be safer if I stick with you guys.” 

Derek shook his head, ready to argue that they didn’t have to get involved in this. This just wasn’t their fight, why weren’t they understanding that? 

But then Allison spoke up, voice grim, “These are our people attacking your city. They’re our responsibility. We just need to find my grandfather and aunt. They’ll talk sense into those people, round them up. And then we’ll deal with them. Whatever punishment your mom and the others give… we’ll accept that.”

Her grandfather and aunt? Derek shot the brunette a puzzled look that Lydia intercepted, “They’re the ones in charge of our group.” She explained.

Did she mean…

“Old guy, bald, blue eyes?” Derek asked as dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, “And your aunt has long, blonde hair? Has a silver necklace?” 

“That sounds like them. Why do you ask?” 

After a long pause, Derek hesitantly answered, “They’re the ones leading the rest of your group. I saw them myself. Your grandfather gave the orders to kill _everyone_.”

Face draining of color, Allison took a step back, and another, and bumped into the examination table. “That… can’t…”

“Shit,” Stiles hissed from his side. Derek looked over at him, watching a realization being born, “Scott! Remember that thing you said? That they were treating you differently after you’d been bit! And that _story! _That’s what’d been bugging me! Holy shit! Oh God, we fucked up so _bad _!”

Placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, Derek gave the human a small shake before saying, “Stiles. Calm down. How did you mess up?”

“By leading them here!” Stiles exclaimed with a wild eyed look, “I totally missed _all _the signs! They weren’t ever interested in finding this place for its academic value! They wanted to kill you all! That’s what was so weird about Kate’s story! She was using it to brain wash us to think that you all were monsters! I bet she told the rest of the camp that story a whole bunch of times too! And who knows _what _else!”

Allison was scrubbed a hand over her face, “That explains those weird questions Kate kept asking me once we came back.”

“What did she ask?” Lydia asked immediately.

“About whether or not I was happy with Scott. She’s never asked me that before and when she did… I was so confused!” Allison shook her head, “And she asked if I was pregnant and… It was weird. I couldn’t get why she was asking me all that. But now I’m thinking she was feeling me out to see if I’d take part in this.”

Stiles rubbed his forehead, muttering something indecipherable under his breath before looking up to meet Derek’s gaze, “Okay. We _definitely _need to get out there and help you guys fight. Isaac said you guys can’t do magic so you’re going to need _all _the magic users you can get. Deaton, how many people you have out there? Who can do magic?”

“In town? Including the emissaries, I’d say 30 people. 35 at most.” 

While Stiles groaned loudly, Lydia spoke up, “And where are these people?”

Deaton pointed out the shop, “Doing what needs to be done. Very few of them know attack spells so some of the magic users are going to be aiding the fighters with defensive spells. Barriers, wards, shields. Or helping people escape the city. Whatever they can do.”

“And the Emissaries?” She asked.

Deaton nodded. “They are most likely already with their alphas. On that note,” He paused to give Derek a meaningful look, “I need to get to your mother.”

“You can’t just just in there without a _plan _.” Stiles burst, waving his hands frantically as he spoke. “You don’t even know what you’re up against!”

Derek spoke up here, “We know enough. It’s a group of 50 people and they’re armed with guns and magic. They’re using mountain ash to trap people inside buildings before setting them on fire. What else do you need to know?”

“What their plan is?” Stiles replied sarcastically, “That’d be a huge help in figuring out how to stop them!” 

“They’re your people though,” Boyd pointed out quietly, “Shouldn’t you be able to tell us what we’re up against? What kind of guns they have or what kind of magic they can use?” 

Stiles immediately held his hands up in surrender. “Whoa! Just because we spent a couple of months together on the road doesn’t mean we know what you wanna know! I tried to _avoid _spending time with the Argents, except Allison because she’s one of my best bud. But Gerard and Kate? I wouldn’t spend time with them if you paid me.” After a pause and a wince, he turned to apologize to Allison, “No offence. They’re just a little... creepy.”

Allison made a pained face. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that about my grandfather. But Kate? Really?”

“She gives me a really bad vibe, I’m sorry.” Stiles apologized.

Derek turned to the others, “And the rest of you? Do you know anything that might help?”

After exchanging a look with Allison, Scott answered, “Not a lot. I know a few of the girls specialized in fire magic. And there was another one who said he was good at conjuring restraints? It sounded really weird. He used a variation of a binding series runes to reach out and grab things instead of … making them stick to wherever they were.”

That must have been the guy that Derek had seen before. The one stopping people in their paths as they’d tried to run away.

“You know, this explains why Kate didn’t like me poking around in the supplies,” Allison said with a frown, “Remember when I tried to look through one of the supply trucks for the missing food crate?”

Scott’s face lit up remembering the incident, “Oh yeah. She’d been _pissed_! Do you think they’d stashed the extra weapons and stuff there?”

“Had to have been,” Lydia answered grimly, before giving Boyd an apologetic look, “I’m sorry but I don’t think we know anything that can help.”

Boyd sighed quietly, scratching his head before answering, “It was worth a shot.”

“On the bright side,” Stiles said in a peppy voice, “You’ve got some bad asses on your side! I can use runes and some decent attack spells. Scott’s a badass werewolf. Allison’s awesome with her crossbow and close combat fighting. Plus she can scry, that’s always a handy skill. Lydia’s great with brews, potions and bombs. Give her enough time and she can make a bomb out of anything. And Danny can manipulate electrical currents.”

The human in question sighed and shook his head at Stiles’ explanation, “I can’t _manipulate _electrical currents. I _read _energies,” Danny explained as he turned to face Derek and Boyd. “I work a lot with technology so, I’ve developed a few runes that I use to ‘_read _’ what’s going on, to check if the circuit is broken or not.”

“Like scrying?” Boyd asked, “But for technology?”

Danny nodded. “Sort of, only with pathways. With scrying you need water, quartz and a personal object of the person you’re scrying for but the runes I use? I’m just checking the ‘roads’, so to speak.”

Boyd didn’t look like he understood. To be honest, neither did Derek. But he _did _understand that Danny’s magic didn’t have a clear offensive use. Hell, he wasn’t sure if it could be used at all. 

“Could you use your runes to check the roads?” Scott asked suddenly, “To see who’s there or not and stuff?”

Danny blinked, taken aback the suggestion, “I’ve… never tried anything like that. I mean it _should _work theoretically. I could try?”

Okay, that would be incredibly helpful. They could plan more than a few ambush attacks using Danny’s magic. Something Lydia immediately suggested. Stiles jumped in as well and together the trio began to formulate a strategy of attack. Boyd and Deaton got sucked into the planning as well. Scott even got off the table and walked over to listen and add in his two cents. The only person in the room who wasn’t contributing, wasn’t even speaking, they all realized at the same time, was Allison. 

“What do you think Allison?” Scott asked, looking behind him. The others gaze followed. 

Allison was leaning heavily against the exam table on one hand, crossbow hanging listlessly against his thigh as she stared blankly down at the floor.

“Allison?” Lydia asked worriedly, “What’s wrong?”

“I just... I can’t believe they’d do this,” She said in a shaky voice. “I thought it was a little strange my grandfather was so dedicated to finding this city but I never thought... And I keep thinking about all these little things that never added up before. The way he’d talk about werewolves and changelings and how they were real! All those old family journals he kept reading. Kept trying to get _me _to read as a kid… I used to think he was just losing his mind. Going senile or something. I never thought any of this would happen.” 

Allison raised a hand to cover her face, fingers trembling. Scott and Lydia pressed against her immediately, their arms around her. “I can’t believe they’d do something like this,” She choked out, “I guess this is why my dad broke off contact with them in the first place.” 

Lydia gave Scott a lost look. But Scott was ahead of her. He rubbed her shoulder while pulling her in tighter. “Let’s go find them so you can talk to them,” Scott offered, “Then you can get some closure, okay?” 

Derek opened his mouth to argue but a quick hand smacking against his chest made him pause mid-step. He turned to look at Stiles in ill-disguised shock, feeling highly disgruntled immediately when Stiles mouthed ‘Wait.’ before looking back at Allison and Scott. He tried not to think about the last time Stiles had been touching it. But the touch was electric and his heart a treacherous organ. Derek willed it to settled down, turning his attention back at the McCall’s. 

Allison was nodding, picking her crossbow back up. “Let’s do it,” She said, dark eyes bright with determination, “Maybe I can stop Kate and Gerard. I could try talking them out of whatever this is. Or at least we’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”

“Are they even going to listen to you?” Boyd asked with a frown. “I mean, no offense but if they’re your grandfather and aunt then… Most people in their position don’t listen to their granddaughters or nieces.”

A hard look passed over Allison’s face, “I’ll _make _them listen.”

In that moment, Derek had no doubt that she _would _.

Lydia sighed and shook her head. “So, that’s the plan? We go straight into the heart of the fight, get Allison to her family and Deaton, Derek and Boyd to their pack?”

“It’s a terrible plan.” Stiles pointed out, grinning. 

Scott returned the grin, eyes glowing gold. “One of the worst ones we’ve ever had.”

“We’re all gonna die.” Danny groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lydia immediately slapped the man’s arm while Stiles drawled, “Keep that optimism goin’ Danny. We’re gonna need it. Deaton? I’m going to need a few things if I’m gonna be going out there. Another energy tonic to start with.”

Before Derek knew it, the group was buzzing around Deaton’s office making quick preparations for joining the fight. Danny was testing a few pieces of chalk on Deaton’s desk. Lydia was going through his brews, adding several bottles to her bag. Allison stood next to Scott watching the man drain a bottom of yellow energy tonic. 

Stiles stood next to Deaton, making a disgusted face as he polished off his own bottle, “Why’z’it that the stronger and most effective the brew, the _worst _it tastes?” 

Ignoring that comment, Derek found himself asking, “Why do you need that? You never answered that.”

There was a beat where Derek was heavily aware that Stiles was debating between answering truthfully and lying. So he crossed his arms and waited. Stiles sighed deeply. He put the empty vial down on the table carefully. It barely made any noise. 

“I had a panic attack,” Stiles grumbled. Derek startled, almost missing the next part of Stiles’ statement. “Your Uncle Peter, _great_ guy by the way - Please don’t miss that sarcasm - was waiting for me in my room after dinner. Like we had our meal, then I went upstairs, and he ambushed me. We had a talk where he threatened to kill my friends and he _completely_ lost it on me. I wound up panicking so bad that I just...”

Before he knew it, Derek was standing in front of Stiles, holding his arms, “He _threatened _you?” Derek found himself growling lowly. When he got his hands on his uncle, they were going to _talk_. Stiles raised his hand up, scrubbing the back of his neck. His high collared jacket dipped to reveal several darkening bruises around his throat. Bruises that looked a lot like finger marks. 

He was going to make Peter pay for that.

“He hurt you,” Derek growled, turning around to ask Boyd, “Where’s Peter?”

Stiles jumped around to face him, arms up to stop Derek. “Whoa, hang on there! Don’t take it out on him! Boyd got there just in time to save me! And your uncle’s in the wind. He snuck out right after Scott came in bleeding all over the floor. I hope you’ve some good cleaning supplies because I don’t think it’s gonna be easy getting that black stuff out of the carpet.”

The urge to groan rose in him. Derek wanted to yell at Stiles, tell him this wasn’t the time to be cracking jokes. 

But Deaton chose that moment to call Stiles over, “I’ve found some oils that might suit you.” The glass bottles clinked inside the large box Deaton had brought out.

“No jasmine or sandalwood?” Stiles asked with a frown. “Those really suit me and my magic.” He walked over next to Deaton, fingers sifting through the box of oils Deaton had pulled out of somewhere. 

Frustrated with how Stiles kept avoiding the topic, Derek gave up. He’d get Stiles later and make him explain what had happened in detail. For now, they had the battle to focus on. So he moved to stand next to Boyd, asking him, “What about you? What are you going to do?”

Boyd tipped his head in consideration. “Was thinking of stopping by Jacob’s shop and pick a weapon up. Maybe the long spear or a bo staff.” 

Jacob was one of the Connor pack and a blacksmith. Who happened to dabble in weapon making thanks to his father’s influence. His shop was down the street from Deaton’s. Derek hoped Jacob or one of his assistances were still there. He’d hate to have to break into the store to get what they needed.

“Make sure to get something to protect yourself with too,” Derek advised, “Blessed chain mail or a shield. Or both.”

As Boyd nodded, Derek realized that the rest of the group was moving to stand together. It appeared that their preparations were complete. 

“Are we ready to go?” Scott asked as he buttoned up his shirt, flexing his fist like he was ached to use his claws. Derek could relate with that feeling. 

‘_Not even remotely _,’ he answered Scott’s question to himself. Outwardly he nodded, “We need to stop by a store down the street. Then we can head out.” 

As they began to move out, Derek ignored the heavy anxiety that had been settling into the pit of his stomach, and told himself that everything was going to be okay.

If they’d managed to survive the Purge and the Exodus, then they could push these intruders out of their city.

They just had too. 

* * *

Their first stop after leaving Deaton's had been at a small shop around the corner; Jacob’s Weapons, the sword hanging over the door had declared. The door had been locked shut, causing Derek to sigh before he’d kicked it in. 

“Remind me to pay Jacob back for this,” Derek had told Boyd before heading into the store.

In a few minutes, Boyd had picked up a long spear, twirling it with ease after he’d strapped on a light chain-mail. Allison had picked up a fresh stock of arrows for her crossbow and Stiles had to be dragged away from a wicked looking mace by Allison. He was immediately given a knife while Danny had been given a short sword. They'd moved on quickly from there. Thanks to Danny’s unique magic skills, finding their way through the city proved to be a breeze. They could avoid any of the crowded roads, keep an eye on the group heading into the city, and plot the fastest route to the town square. 

The streets were deserted now. Stiles could only assume and hope that the residents had either fled to safety or were getting ready to fight. As they ran through the empty streets, Stiles shook his head in incredulous disbelief at the situation they were in. In all his years and daydreams this wasn’t a scenario he’d _ever _even thought to consider. Stiles grimly decided he was going to give Gerard a good piece of his mind for this. And maybe a punch or two. But that would be _after _he’d asked the guy about his motives because Stiles just couldn’t understand what reason the man had for doing this. For declaring war on a city and people who’d done nothing but help them. 

‘_Besides the raging speciest _,’ Stiles thought to himself because surely Gerard had to have better motives than _that_.

Stiles went over every interaction he’d had with Gerard and Kate. Sure they’d seemed intense as hell but looking back at their past interactions, nothing stuck out as foreshadowing to their present situation. Then again he doubt they’d let Stiles get even a whiff of a plan like this. He’d made it clear from the get go that he thought Haven and everything about it more precious than gold. He wouldn’t destroy a blade of _grass _if it came from this valley.

Which abruptly led Stiles to question that he should have thought off right off the bat. “You said they had guns?” Stiles asked, panting as he leaned against a stone wall. God, he was so out of shape. But if he had known he’d be in this situation, he’d have totally done more cardio in the past. 

Derek looked away from where he was studying Danny, who was kneeling on the ground scribbling a series of runes into a stone with his white chalk. The rune glowed electric blue as soon as Danny’s fingertips touched it.

“The people you saw,” Stiles clarified in between wheezes, “you said they had guns.”

Derek nodded stiffly. “What kind were they? Could you tell if they were revolvers or shotguns or what?”

Nearby he heard Scott whisper something to Lydia. Allison stood with Boyd, watching their flank, while Deaton watched Danny work. “I don’t know enough about guns to tell the difference,” Derek shook his head, “Sorry. Is it important?”

“Not really I guess.” Stiles let his head fall back against the stone wall. “A bunch of our guys were armed with these revolvers. Our guards I mean. I think they have hand guns for the most part. So I was wondering how many of the guys you saw were armed. And of course what they were using. Because if it was a couple of guys with revolvers then they already had the guns. But if it was more than that and more people then...then they packed the guns from the start. And somehow smuggled them into the city.” He stared up at the sky, and wondered if the reason why he couldn’t see the stars was because of the fire burning on the other side of town.

Derek frowned deeply, “I can tell you how many people had guns. Less than thirty of your group had guns. They were… large in size. Around so I guess.” The space between his palms was roughly the breadth of his chest. 

“Not hand guns then,” Stiles mumbled to himself.

Guilt, dark and sick twisted inside his belly. He couldn't help but feel responsible for this. If only he hadn’t come here. If only he hadn’t agreed to help Gerard without doing some research. If only he hadn’t pushed so hard to find this city…then all these innocent people who had died tonight…were _going to die _tonight...

“All clear.” Danny spoke up, clapping his hands clean before standing up, “There’s a huge crowd three streets down. We’re almost there.”

“Can you tell if they’re still fighting?” Scott asked, moving behind Danny and Deaton. 

Danny shook his head, “I just know there’s a lot of people nearby. They’re kind of pulsing back and front, like they go a little forward and a little fall back. Like the tide.”

At least that proved that everyone was still alive, Stiles thought grimly. That was something. 

“One last time, so that we’re all clear on what we gotta do,” Stiles began, “Me, Allison, Scott, and Lydia are gonna go find the Argents and try to talk some sense into them. Derek, Deaton, and Boyd are going to find alpha Hale. Danny-”

“I’m going with Derek,” Danny interrupted firmly, “There’s a guy I need to make sure is alright.”

“A guy? Who are yo-“ Stiles couldn’t stop himself from gaping when Danny flushed and shrugged, “What? How? _When _did you-?” The look Danny shot Derek, the wordless _et tu, Stiles_? it implied made his mouth clap shut. Instead he punched Danny’s arm, “Why didn’t you tell us you’d found someone?”

“Unlike some other guys, I don’t kiss and tell,” Danny drawled, returning Stiles’ punch. “Don’t worry. I’ll stick close with Boyd. Once I make sure my guy is safe I’ll head to where the wounded are and stay there. Help them out by telling them where everyone is going. Just... be careful.” His earnest gaze moved to the others, “All of you.”

In a heartbeat, the mood turned solemn. They all moved to exchange a quick and hard group hug. Standing between Danny and Scott, Stiles told himself to be ready for anything, but he knew he’d still be overwhelmed. He’d never been in a situation like this before. None of them had. It was going to be a fight for their lives. There was no telling what lay in store for them. And, he firmly told himself, worrying about that would be a waste of energy _and _he’d stress himself out. So he pressed his lips together tightly and hugged his friends harder. They pulled apart at the same time, avoiding each other’s eyes as they checked their equipment one last time before going into battle. 

His eyes shifted to meet Derek’s. The tension in Derek’s body loosened for a moment. Stiles’ breath caught at the sudden vulnerability he saw in Derek’s eyes. As Scott and Allison moved forward to towards Boyd, Allison throwing her arms around the man in a hug, Stiles moved towards Derek. Something akin to relief flowed through him when Derek stepped forward as well.

“You uuh. You be careful too,” Stiles said, wincing immediately. Of all the last words, _that _was what his brain opted to go with? Stupid brain crapping out on him now! “Don’t do anything stupid.” And cringed again.

It was an enormous relief to hear Derek huff in clear amusement, “I should be saying that to you. I’m not the one who nearly got punched in the groin by an angry satyr.” 

Only slightly offended, Stiles shoved at Derek’s chest, “Don’t remind me of that. I’m still mad about that.” His hands remained there, soaking in the warmth coming off the werewolf. Stiles could feel some of his tension bleeding out of him with every breath Derek took.

“I’ll introduce you to a nicer satyr. Isaac knows a few that hang out in the forest. They’ve got flower crowns and all,” Derek’s hands covered his own, trapping Stiles’ cool hands in place. His fingers curled around Stiles, and squeezed gently. His claws pressed into Stiles palm and it’s a clear, sobering reminder of who Derek was. _What _he was. And Stiles doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

He was overcome with the urge to lean forward and press his mouth against Derek’s. Hard enough that the werewolfs fangs cut into his lips. Stiles wanted more than that incredibly short kiss they’d have only yesterday. God. Had it only been yesterday? It felt more like days ago. Stiles sighed, tipped forward to hide his face against Derek’s shoulder. 

“I mean it. You gotta be careful. Who knows what those guys are planning and I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’m not good at losing people okay? I barely made it through my mom dying when I was a kid and I’m seriously attached to the people I like so you just...” He cut his babbling off by biting his lip. 

Damn his stupid mouth and its tendency to ramble when he was panicking. Derek’s hands slipped off his hands, leaving them cold. But just as swiftly, they moved around his back to pull Stiles into a proper hug. Stiles hands quickly slid around Derek’s waist as well. This may very well be the last time he and Derek were together. Who knew what was going to happen in the new few hours. Or day. God. There was _no _knowing anything was there?

“This sucks.” Stiles sighed into Derek’s neck. He felt Derek inhale against his hair, his hands rising to rest between his shoulder blades. Inhaling his next breath made Stiles realize how nice Derek smelled. Clean sweat. Woodsy. Would it be too creepy if he took a few deep inhales to pinpoint the scent? It probably would be... 

With a small head shake, Stiles pulled away to look at Derek. Derek’s blue eyes were solemn as he gazed back, the wrinkles between his eyes thick and deep. Stiles wondered what Derek must have looked like as a human. Did he have those frown lines? How did he manage to shave but leave those sideburns untouched? His lips turned up when he noticed the way the sideburns were curling up behind one of Derek’s pointed ears. 

One hand came up to touch the thin, wiry hair. Stiles twirled the end around his finger before grinning. He opened his mouth to say something. A few good words that would make for suitable parting words. But nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. Thank you for everything? I think we could have had something? I think I care about you but it’s only been a week so that might be too much too soon?

Stiles stared helplessly up at Derek, wanting desperately to put words to this _pull _he was feeling towards Derek but finding none. He’s relieved when Derek leaned in slowly, eyes lowering in clear intent. Stiles’ eyes lowered as well, falling quickly to Derek’s lips before closing all the way. A silly, giddy part of him hoped this kiss would be better than the last two. Both of those had been impulsive. The result of which being a less than perfect meeting of their lips. Something that made Stiles’ stomach clench with embarrassment and desire in equal parts.This kiss, Stiles sighed happily, was the best kiss they’d had together thought. 

Derek’s mouth slanted just right over his, the tips of his fangs pressing gently into his bottom lip. Stiles’ hand cupped a stubbled cheek to keep Derek there, leaning in hard. It was a tender contact that swiftly turned desperate. And never once did Derek’s claws or fangs prick him hard enough to draw blood. But oh Stiles wished they would. Then he’d have physical proof of Derek’s affection. He’d like that. He _wanted _that.

His hands clutched Derek’s shirt, hanging on for dear life as their second kiss turned into a third and a fourth and soon enough, Stiles lost count. His grip on Derek loosened, sliding down to rest against his sides as their kisses softened. One last, lingering kiss and they both broke apart gasping for breath. It made Stiles feel a tiny bit proud that he was the one responsible for making a werewolf breathless. Score one for his ego. Stiles smiled punch-drunk at the werewolf. His smile grew when Derek smiled back. 

“You be careful too.” Derek’s quiet words pierced through his happiness. “Please. I... I...”

“I know,” Stiles sighed and sympathetically patted Derek’s cheek before letting his hand sliding down, “I get it. And I’ll try.” Derek nodded, looking relieved beyond words that Stiles got what he was saying without having to use actual words. Regretfully Stiles took a step back. And another, holding eye contact with Derek as long as possible before turning to face his friends. He ignored the sympathetic look in their eyes before slapping Scott on the back. “Okay. Let’s do this. We’ve got a city to save.”

Lydia stood next to him, clutching her bag. Stiles checked his own bag, made sure he had his oil bottle in hand before checking the others. Scott was flexing his clawed hands, standing next to Allison who checked her crossbow one last time. Derek walked to the front of the group with Deaton, followed by Danny and Boyd. Boyd stood poised and ready to run. Deaton’s usually pleasant expression had shifted into one of firm determination. The back of his palms glowed with a silvery light. The lines spread across his skin, forming shimmering designs all the way up to his face. It reminded Stiles of war paint.There was a moment – just a second – where Derek glanced back at them to judge their readiness. This was it, Stiles thought as adrenaline poured into his veins, body tensing. Derek nodded and they broke. 

Derek and his group went one way, Stiles and his group the other. The tension thrumming in his body intensified as they ran. The shouts of the crowd were growing louder. The screaming wasn’t stopping. The gun shots sounded closer again, going off in long bursts before pausing momentarily. Something went up with a loud bang somewhere, causing Allison’s head to snap up. 

There were people coming and going around them, moving through the streets swiftly. Stiles caught sight of the bakery lady from a couple of days ago racing away with two children by her side. The satyr who’d pushed him into the fountain trotted next to them, weighed down by the blankets in his arms. Stiles’ eyes followed him, watching him drop the blankets in front of a group of humans who looked like they were setting a first aid area up. Just in time too it seemed, because injured people were shuffling in from all sides. 

Abruptly they were working their way through the largest crowd Stiles had seen in years. They’d made it to the town square. The tension was palatable. The air crackled with nervous energy and anger, pulsing like a physical being. Magical creatures of all shapes, sizes, and forms were pressing against each other, shouting at the people standing in front of the large town hall. 

It was a group of fourteen individuals. They stood on top of a stage, huddling in a loose semi-circle while the crowd shouted at them. He overheard a passing shifter refer to them as the Council. Six of them appeared to be werewolves, their faces shifted as they stood in the middle watching the crowd with their blazing red eyes. Four ladies stood together on their left side. Fae if Stiles’ guess was correct. 

The first had golden blonde hair and wore a white toga-dress. Golden wings shaped like dragonfly wings fluttered in irritation behind her. The eye in the middle of her forehead was focused in the direction of the gunfire. The second wore a short black dress and had red flowers braided into her curly hair that complimented her dark skin. She had pointed sand colored wings that shone and glimmered like gold with her every move. She stood with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. The third was a tall, slender women who towered over the others. The worried expression on her face reminded Stiles of the water fae. Her small silvery wings fluttered restlessly, causing her long, dark hair to stay in restless motion. What she was saying to her compatriots, they didn’t like it. Especially the last fae who wore pants, a backless shirt that revealed her dark colored wings. She kept running her hands through her short brown hair before talking to the blonde next to her. 

“Sandra and Jessica aren’t liking whatever it is that Belle’s saying,” the horned person next to Stiles was muttering.

“She probably suggested they work together, you know how the fae get about that kind of stuff. What I don’t get is why Lady Belle is _here_. Shouldn’t she be out there keeping an eye on her people? Make sure they’re putting the fires out?”

“And who’d’ve represented the water fae at the Council? Seriously Carl, you need to stop and think before you talk.”

On the other side of the werewolves were two men. Skin porcelain fair and dark curly hair stuck to their angled faces as they argued with the werewolves. A deertaur was whispering something to a centaur large enough that it towered above the deertaur even though latter wasn’t standing on stage. Whatever the deertaur said, it made the centaur snort and stomp a hoof against the stone.

“The Hale pack is already out there fighting! They will lead the humans here and then we will defeat them!” One of the werewolves finally shouted, “We need to be patient and wait!”

Stiles felt a hand tug on his shirt. He followed it to Scott’s worried face. He was mouthing something like ‘Need to go’. As they pushed past a trio of centaurs with bows and arrow hitched over their shoulders, Stiles heard someone shout back, “What about the people we sent to help them?”

The same werewolf replied, “They’re helping the Hales subdue the humans. Two packs we-”

A sudden shout cut the werewolf off. Stiles reached out to grab the back of Allison’s shirt, Lydia’s hand curled like a vice around his bicep as they turned towards the source of the cry. But there were too many people in the way. 

“Scott,” Stiles said urgently, “can you hear what’s going on? Can you like, focus or something?”

His best friend frowned deeply, tilting his head. The crowd around them shifted restlessly, pressing them front and back like boats in a storm. People around them pushed up to their full heights trying to see what was going on. They speculated openly about what could have happened - they had captured the humans, someone had died, the humans have broken through.

Stiles grit his teeth and waited. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. Scott’s eyes flew open, glowing gold as he said, “A group came back! They’re hurt pretty bad!”

Lydia’s and Allison’s heads turned from Scott towards the source of the noise. It seemed that the news was spreading. The crowd’s murmurings had grown louder. Some of the people were shouting at the Council. All of whose faces had turned pale as they exchanged worried looks with each other. 

“We need to get closer. See what’s going on ourselves,” Allison was saying, “Scott, can you get us there?”

Scott nodded immediately, making way for the rest of them through the crowd. It was hard given the way the crowd’s agitation was growing with every passing second. More people were shouting at the council to take immediate action. That they all needed to get out there and fight before more of their people were killed. 

A part of Stiles agreed with the crowd. It would be better to overwhelm Gerard and his people with sheer force. That way they _just might _have a chance. Because Gerard had two big advantages: guns and organization. Sure the people at Haven had more strength and numbers, they were ill organized. And all they had to fight with was themselves. Stiles wasn’t sure what kind of resistance these people had against fucking assault rifles and shit. And given the disorder surrounding them, Stiles doubted these people had much of a chance. They needed to stop wringing their hands and _fight_. Then _maybe _they could save the city.

Maybe. 

Everything hinged on that word tonight.

And they were still trying to push their way through the crowd. Stiles was certain he’d have a dozen bruises on his body thanks to all the accidental elbows he’d received in a span of fifteen odd minutes. But it felt more like hours later by the time they’d make it to the fringes of the large crowd. Standing on the edge, they all took a minute to catch their breath. But they lost them just as quickly as they got a perfect view of the people hurrying into the square from a main road. Allison gasped loudly. Scott took a step back, stricken. Lydia and Stiles were struck dumb. 

Wounded werewolves were pouring into the square. They had to have been the people the Council had sent to help the Hale pack. Stiles’ eyes went from one wounded werewolf to the other. They shuffled in, each and every one of them appeared to have been hit with wolfsbane because black blood was seeping out of their wounds. Stiles felt his hands tighten around the bag strapped across his chest. Deaton had pushed a small bottle of wolfsbane powder into his hands along with a box of matches, telling him ‘Just in case’. He could help these people right now if he wanted. And a part of Stiles _wanted _to go and help the wounded coming in. 

But the more selfish part of him made him stay in place. There was a good chance he was going to need the wolfsbane to help Scott or Derek if they were going to get hurt. If it made him a bad person to think of Scott and Derek first then Stiles was possibly the worst person in this crowd. Stiles counted eleven wounded and wondered, ‘_That’s it? That’s all the people they sent to help Alpha Hale? That doesn’t seem like a lot...’ _

A rattling sound echoed down the street. Two carts were pulling into the square, led by two pale faced fae. The crowd moved out of the way of the slow moving vehicles, murmurs rising as they headed straight towards the town hall. The backs of the carts were covered by tarp. The Council members moved towards the side of the stage to see what the carts had brought with them. The front of the crowd began to gravitate forward as well. Stiles however, took a step back, knowing what had just rolled into the square before the fae with black wings shouted, “Remove that tarp.”

It was dead bodies. Stiles knew his fears were true when a gasp ran through the crowd, followed by panicked screams and shouts. “They’re all dead!” Someone was shouting, “They managed to take out the DaBarra and Brown packs!”

He felt a small hand land on his shoulder. Lydia’s inhaled sharply, fingernails digging into his skin. “I feel like screaming...” she whispered lowly, stepping closer to him. Stiles pressed his hand on top of hers, understanding the sentiment. 

“We need to stop this before more people get hurt,” Stiles tried not to think about Talia or Laura, or the off chance that their bodies might be in one of the carts. He forced himself to stay in the present. To focus on his current task. Inhaled sharply, he turned to face Allison, “You better lead the way from here. We’ll have a better shot by at _not _being shot if you’re in front.”

The brunette nodded stiffly, hair swinging in her tight ponytail. “Let’s go the way they came from. Scott, can you use your hearing to guide us?”

In a flash, Scott’s features melted into his beta form. He concentrated a moment before nodding, “They’re maybe a couple of streets away. I can’t be sure.”

“That’s better than nothing. Let’s get going,” Lydia pushed him forward, hard enough to almost make Stiles fall flat on his face. After shooting her a glare, Stiles began to sneak towards the road, wary of the fact that someone might catch them and stop them. 

But there was little need to skulk past the crowd because no one was paying attention to them. Everyone attention had been caught by the cart. Two shifters had climbed onto a cart each and were unloading the bodies. Stiles was relieved to note that every so often, they’d shout, “He/She’s still alive! Get them to the medic!” With any luck, they’d all make it. But it was only so often in the end. One in every five bodies.

As they passed by the carts, Stiles couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the bodies piled near the wheels. The ones who hadn’t made it. Many of the bodies had been shot near or close to their heart. A few of them however, had been head shots. And what made the sight worse was that red blood had mingled with black, meaning that some of these people…Stiles felt his stomach roil at the sight, a hand coming up against his mouth to keep himself from throwing up. Since how long had Gerard known that wolfsbane was poisonous against werewolves? What else did the man know? What other secrets was he keeping? How could he condone the killing of so many innocents and still be at peace with himself?

They all started when a loud burst of gunfire came from ahead of them. Followed immediately by a large flash of white light. 

“They’re a lot closer than I thought they’d be,” Allison said in a worried voice. 

“We need to hurry,” Stiles urged again.

They left the town square and it’s uproar behind them as they moved down the main street. The road was big enough for a car to get through but it had been roughly barricaded up with carts and tables and whatever the residents could find. As a result, their small group had to wind their way through the stacked up furniture, following the trail of black blood. A few werewolves staggered past them, looking worse for the wear. But no one stopped them. No one except…

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” A large man asked in a heavy Irish accent. “You should be running away from the fight, not going towards it.” 

Blood dripped down the left side of his face. Red, Stiles noted with relief. But the relief left him when he saw the man clutching his forearm. Black blood dripped down his fingers and onto the street.

He doesn’t think when his hands dig into his bag to seek the wolfsbane out, “Come over here. I’ve got something for that.” Stiles told the man, nodding at the wall behind him.

The man hesitated a moment, glanced down at his arm, before walking over to where Stiles was gesturing. As Stiles wondered where to pour and burn the wolfsbane, Allison asked, “What’s going on out there? What’s the situation?”

“We’re getting our asses handed to us,” The man said bluntly, “They’re using special kinds of bullets. We all thought they were regular guns and rushed forward. Regular bullets hurt but they can’t take us down. So when we got hit first, we just kept on fighting. But it didn’t take long for us to realize that something was wrong. When people just… started to drop like flies…” 

As he shook his head, Stiles poured an inch of wolfsbane onto the stone road and pulled his lighter out. 

“Never expected humans to know what wolfsbane does to a supernatural creature,” The man continued.

“I thought it was only a poison for werewolves? It works on other creatures too?” Lydia asked while Stiles growled and cursed the lighter. Damn it! Why wasn’t it worked? With an annoyed noise, he threw it away and pulled out a box of matches.

Nodding, the large man replied, “Sure. It’s still poison in the end. If it gets to the brain or the heart then it doesn’t matter what you are. You’ll be dead in an instant. It’s just twice as effective if you’re not human.”

Shamefully Stiles noted how his hands shook as he tried to light a match. The bad feeling in his gut had been growing and growing. He was missing something. Something _big_. But what was it? What _was _it? 

The match flared to life in his hands, making Stiles sigh so hard with relief he nearly blew the tiny flame out. As soon as he pressed the match to the powder, it sparked and turned to ash. Stiles carefully picked it up in his right palm and warned, “This is gonna hurt.”

“I know. This isn’t the first time I’ve been poisoned by wolfsbane. Just do it.” The man said, holding his injured arm out. Stiles tried not to focus on how some of the blackened blood had dried up and was now crusting off the werewolf's dark skin.

Stiles eyed the ugly looking bullet wound, swallowed down the bile rising up his throat and slapped his hand down, ash first. The man screamed through his clenched teeth, jerking his arm out of Stiles’ grasp and narrowly avoiding punching Stiles in the face before he fell to the ground. Scott was by his side in a heartbeat, standing between him and the man writhing in agony on the floor. 

Within a few seconds, the thrashing turned into painful little twitches. Stiles nervously asked, “He’s not dead, right?” 

“I don’t think so?” Allison replied uncertainly. 

Scott tipped his head to the side before answering, “His heart’s still beating.”

But they all still sighed in relief when the man’s eyes fluttered open. Scott and Stiles stepped up to help him up to his feet.

“No matter how many times I’ve been through that, there’s just no way to brace yourself for the pain,” The man groaned, stumbling even as he was held up by the pair, “Thanks for your help.”

And turned his face away from the square, setting his shoulders back with a loud crack.

“Hey, whoa!” Scott asked, jumping in front of the guy. “Where are you going?”

“Back to help my pack.” The man said, stepping around Scott, “My alpha and pack mates are fighting those humans but they’re out gunned. They need all the help they can get.”

“You were _just_ _shot_!” Allison pointed out, hurrying up next to the man, “Don’t you need some time to recover? Get your strength back?”

But there was no stopping the man. He continued to stride down the street, growing stronger with every step. “There’s no time for that,” He replied, flexing his healed arm at Allison. “Best not try to stop me or else I’ll be forced to fight you. I appreciate your help but I have to go help my alpha. She can’t do this on her own. Not against these people.”

She? 

“Which pack did you say you’re from?”

The man gave Stiles a calculating look, “I didn’t.”

“Are you part of the Hale pack?” Stiles asked on. 

There was a pause before the man nodded, “Yeah. Why do you wanna know?”

“We’re going to help her too. Do you know where she is?”

“A few streets down. Last I saw her she was taking down this magic user that was throwing fireballs at the children’s school,” His gaze shifted from mild annoyance into full blown suspicion, “What pack are you all from? I haven’t seen you people around before. And I know everyone in this town. Are you one of the outsiders?”

This had the potential to get bad _fast _. Stiles opened his mouth to lie but Lydia beat him to the punch, “Yes. But we’re not here to fight you, any of you. Our friend here got attacked by the same people who are attacking the city. He’s a shifter too. We want to get to our people make them stop all this violence and killing. We want the same thing you do.”

“Lydia!” Stiles exclaimed.

“There’s no time to think up any lies or subterfuge!” Lydia shot back immediately, “And there’s no lying to werewolves, remember?” 

Crap, he’d forgotten about that. Stiles shot the man an apologetic look, “Sorry. But she’s right! We do want the same thing you do. And the sooner you can get us to where the fighting is then… well. The sooner this might all be over.”

The man gave them one last wary look before nodding slowly, “Fine. But if you try to hurt my alpha or _any _of my pack mates, I’m going to tear your head off your shoulders with my bare hands.” 

And from the way his arm muscles flexed, Stiles had _zero _doubt about his strength. This man could probably tear his body in two if he tried. 

“Fair enough,” Lydia returned. “But you should know Alpha Hale gave Scott the bite to save his life. We don’t have any reason to fight her when she helped us.”

Surprise filled the man’s face as he turned to look at Scott, who gave him a tiny wave, “So _you’re _the new pack member Isaac was talking about? He said you learned how to-“

A loud bang right in front of them drowned out the last of the man’s sentence. Everyone’s hands went to their ears. The man they’d just helped snarled at the plume of smoke that was starting to rise close to them. 

“The hell was that?” Scott asked rubbing his ears with a wince, “Shit. I think my ears went numb.”

Allison was shaking her head, frowning deeply. “Flash bang, I think?”

They froze in their places when a group of humans dressed in dark clothes ran out in front of them. Their guns were raised, pointing towards the three werewolves advancing towards them from the other side of the street. 

Cora and Isaac! 

Over the humans’ shouts and gunfire, Stiles could hear them snarling as they fought their way through the group. Cora picked up a heavy table and threw it at a pair of humans like it weighed nothing more than a few pebbles. Isaac meanwhile, was in the thick of things, punching and kicking and clawing as many humans as he could before jumping back. The third were grabbed a human and used them as a shield as bullets rained down on them. 

Next to him, he felt Scott grow stiff. “It’s them, he growled. "They’re the ones who attacked me.” Scott’s face was tight with anger as he stared at the fight going on at the center of the crossroads, fangs starting to peek through his lips. “I recognize the scent. Juniper and gunpowder.” 

An ugly dark feeling crawled up his spine and gripped his neck tight. Stiles’ hand slipped into his bag to pull out the oil he’d taken from Deaton. He quickly wet a finger and drew a fire rune on his left palm, imagining the largest ball of fire he could. The triangle glowed hot before rising off his skin, warping into a writhing mass of fire larger than his head. Without thinking about it, Stiles hurled it towards the humans who were moving towards them. 

The humans screamed as the fireball hit its mark. One of the men immediately dropped to the ground, rolling around as he tried to put it out. The fire stubbornly clung onto the fabric, curling around his body like a lovers’ embrace until he was fully engulfed. The three others who had been hit were shouting in terror as the fire refused to go out no matter what they tried.

Stiles blinked in shock at the sight of his fire acting like a living being. Magical fire couldn’t be put out with a regular stop, drop, and roll but it was still fire. Stiles had never thrown a fire that had never _clung _to the target. He eyed the birch oil Deaton had given him suspiciously before freezing when he realized he’d brought the four _gunmen’s _attention on them.

“Shit,” He cursed.

The werewolf beside them roared before running forward. Stiles felt a hand grip his shoulder and pull him down. A split second later he heard gunfire. He turned to stare into Allison’s eyes, mouth still open in shock. 

“You alright?” She asked.

He nodded dumbly, turning to see where Lydia was. She was next to him, hands digging into her own satchel. Before he knew what was happening, she’d pulled a bottle out and was lighting the thin strip of cloth coming out of the bottle neck. “Duck!” She shouted before throwing the molotov cocktail at the humans.

It was like watching a movie in slow motion. Stiles could make out the liquid sloshing around inside the bottle. He saw the shocked look on the soldier’s faces when they realized Lydia what had just been lobbed their way. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scott cover Allison’s head and body with his arms and torso. Lydia’s arms slowly came up to shield her eyes and face. Stiles pressed his face into the hard ground, hands covering his head. 

A blink. A bang. Someone fired their gun. Glass shattered and a loud boom rattled the cottage windows around them. Heat flew over his body. And suddenly everything was on fast forward. 

Agonized screams and roars mixed into a curiously ugly and entrancing. Stiles cautiously raised his head one inch at a time. It was the ugliest sight he’d seen. Several of the soldiers were flailing around screaming as the chemical fire ate their flesh. Many of them had been hit in the face with the burning liquid. He guessed that someone had shot at the bottle and that had only made the effects worse. Stiles cringed as the man ran into a wall, _hard _, and fell down like a stone. 

As he shakily got up to his feet, he saw Isaac knock the gun out of his assailant’s hands. Cora ducked low and swept her leg out, knocking her attacker down on his back. And the large werewolf had his big hand wrapped around the third human’s neck. The human’s struggles looked pitiful from Stiles’ perspective. He’d lost his gun somewhere along the fight and was trying to kick and punch his way free. But the werewolf applied pressure and twisted.

The sickening crunch of bones breaking made Stiles’ control break. He rushed out of the way as the nausea overwhelmed him. With one hand against a cool wall, Stiles let his stomach contents empty against the ground. His stomach and throat muscles jerked uncontrollably over and over again until finally there was nothing left to come out. Stiles spat out clear spit before heaving in a shaky breath. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the cottage wall. Sniffing, Stiles swiped a hand over his face and mouth before pushing himself away. 

“Stiles?” He heard Isaac call. “Are you alright? What the hell are you all doing here?”

Without turning around, Stiles raised up a finger in Isaac’s direction. “Gimme a minute.” 

That whole situation had been incredibly... He searched for a word but nothing seemed appropriate. His stomach twisted violently as the smell of burning flesh crawled up his nostrils. Fuck. That was... His stomach might have emptied its content but Stiles still felt the urge to vomit rising up.The werewolves were giving the bodies dirty looks, even as they talked with Scott and Allison. Stiles hurried over next to them, pinching his nose close.

“You can’t be here! It’s too dangerous,” Isaac was complaining.

Hand on one hip, Allison gestured at the street, “And it’s not too dangerous for you? We know what we’re getting into Isaac. And we want to try and help. If we can just get to my grandfather and aunt then maybe we can stop this.”

Isaac scrubbed a bloodied hand over his face before groaning, “I don’t like this.”

“That makes all of us,” Stiles quipped shakily in a nasal voice, still pinching his nose shut.

Lydia gave Cora a nod as she walked over with the two werewolves, “What happened? We saw the other werewolves coming to the square. It looked like there’d been a massacre.”

The blonde who had been with Isaac and Cora let out a shaky laugh, “That’s not inaccurate .”

“They overwhelmed us,” Cora spat out angrily, “We didn’t think that they knew what wolfsbane_ was _much less have bullets loaded with it. It didn’t take us long to figure that out but there were so many of us in a cramped space...”

“There was no way to avoid being hit. Unless you were lucky enough to be near the back or had jumped up on a roof,” Isaac added in, “When they saw that the bullets were working, they pushed. And kept pushing as they kept firing. They also had these weird glass bombs that spread wolfsbane as soon as they cracked. That knocked a lot of people out, making them easier targets. It was a blood bath.”

Stiles’ mind flashed back to all the bodies piled up in the carts, to all the wounded limping their way back towards the medical aid area. Cora’s words explained the amount of dead. Plus, if they’d caught the group in a narrow alley then the werewolves and others would have had a further disadvantage. With a shiver, Stiles hoped that the Council and other town people had figured out a plan of action already. 

“Then we noticed how the humans were starting to break into smaller groups, moving through the smaller streets. So we started breaking up to stop them. Me, Bryan, and Cora were fighting these guys and found you.” Isaac said, toeing the dead body lying nearby with a disgusted look.

Lydia’s hand shot out to grab Isaac’s arm, “They’re breaking up into smaller groups?” She asked sharply. After Isaac nodded, she turned to give the others a worried look. “That’s not good. If I’m right then they’re going to come at the square from all sides. If they catch them by surprise, then...”

She didn’t have to finish her sentence. Allison’s expression quickly cleared, “Someone needs to go and warn them. Isaac, did you see a balding old man during the fight? About this tall?”

“I saw him,” Cora responded immediately. “He was standing at the back with three other people. Two girls and a guy. I think they’d come to our house right after you all had found the city.”

“That’s them. We need to get to them. There’s still time to stop everyone.” Scott said firmly.

It was a lie. The most lofty of hopes. Their pie in the sky dream. And everyone knew it. But no one pointed that out. 

“But Lydia’s right,” Stiles pointed out, “Someone needs to go back to warn the others. And it’s gotta be someone they know...”

Cora, Isaac turned to look at Bryan and the werewolf they'd helped

“No!” Bryan argued immediately, “I’m staying with you!”

“I’m not letting you go without me either.” The larger werewolf said.

Cora growled, taking a step forward to snarl, “You’ll do as you’re told! We need you to warn the others and _save their lives_! _That’s _what mom would want! She wouldn’t want you to save her life while the rest of the city burns down around her!”

There was a beat before Bryan clicked his tongue in defeat and the other werewolf gnashed his teeth. 

“_Fine_,” the latter said, “We’ll go back and warn the others. But if something happens to Talia, I’m going to hold you all responsible.”

“Thank you, Jacob.” Cora sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. 

Jacob? It couldn’t be… “Not the same Jacob who owns the little weapons shop near Deaton’s office?” Stiles asked.

The werewolf, Jacob, raised a bland eyebrow up. “The same. Why?”

With a tiny cringe and sheepish smile, Stiles explained how their group had broken into his shop to get some weapons. He was quick to explain it had been Derek and Boyd’s idea but quietly pointed out they’d all picked something up. “Except Scott. Because he’s already got the claws and all.” Stiles finished. 

Jacob stared at him for a long, hard moment before sighing and then laughing. His dreads swung gently from side to side, sweeping over his shoulder to fall against his chest. 

“It can’t be helped I suppose. I’ll just put it on Derek’s tab.” Exhaling heavily, Jacob nodded sharply at Cora and Isaac before turning to Bryan, “Let’s go.” 

Together, they ran back the way their group had come from, slipping through the barricades. 

For one second, Stiles was envious. He would have liked to have returned to where the others were and help them instead of go straight to the front lines. But he steeled his nerves. He had a debt to repay to Talia Hale and her pack. To everyone in this city who had welcomed them with open arms. The least Stiles could do was to do everything in his power to stop this mindless slaughter. He gave Isaac and Cora a hard look before turning to face the crossroads before them. Without a word, their group resumed their trek, stepping over the dead, smoking bodies. 

Once at the crossroads, they turned left. Stiles pressed his elbow against the lower half of his mouth. The air was hot and muggy thanks to how many buildings were on fire. It was almost impossible to breath as they dashed past a large flaming building. He heard something rip behind him and saw Lydia tie a piece of cloth around her mouth before jogging up to him.

They were running in pairs. Allison ran next to Cora at the front, crossbow tight against her side, their eyes focused on the road in front of them. Behind them were Stiles and Lydia. Last were Scott and Isaac, gaze repeatedly falling back to make sure no one would attack them from the rear. Stiles’ eyes kept darting around him, taking in the red and black blood splattered against the walls. A seemingly endless amount of bodies littered the streets. Worse still was the sight was the buildings with mountain ash circles around them. Burning bodies lay at the very edge of the dark circles; people had tried to escape but had burned to death instead.

Swallowing harshly, Stile turned his ear towards Isaac’s low voice, “I think I saw Erica trying to help someone out of the gunfire but I’m not sure. She’s smart though so I’m sure she’s okay. I’m more worried about Talia and Laura. They’re fighting with a few other members of our pack and some other werewolves who didn’t get hurt in that first fight. If we’re lucky, they’re still putting up a good fight. But it’s just a few of them against so many people…”

“Derek’s probably with them now. Along with Deaton,” Scott reassured the other werewolf, “They’re probably holding the line.”

Quietly, Stiles hoped the same. But realistically he knew there was only so long you could keep dodging gunfire - supernatural speed or not. And speaking of gunfire. Was it Stiles’ imagination or was the sound of it getting closer? In answer, a small groups of humans came into sight - some soldiers with guns and others using their blood to cast spells on the werewolves attacking them. In the middle of the road, right in front of them, stood a broad shouldered woman who was chanting something as blood trickled out of her fist. Her hair fluttered in the hot air, eyes half mast, mesmerized by the way every blood drop stopped mid-fall to hover in mid-air. 

“Blood magic?” Lydia hissed out next to him, “Is she crazy? That’s _suicidal_!” 

Very few people used blood magic, and for good reason. It was the second most taboo thing you could do as a magic user (with the first being necromancy). Not only was blood magic incredibly powerful but it was also _incredibly _unpredictable. The biggest drawback to using blood magic was that it drained more energy out of a person than any other kind of magic. But blood magic-based spells were also _incredibly _power. The downside of it all was that there was no way to control _how much_ power any spell would draw. And given that any person’s energy was finite, one wrong spell could result in the magic users death. 

They were only a few feet away when a werewolf came snarling at the woman from above. She unfurled her fist, bloody palm out towards her attacker. The blood drops went flying at the werewolf with all the speed of a bullet. He saw Allison flinch when the werewolf went flying in the other direction, crashing into mountain ash barrier before crumpling to the ground. The witch staggered forward, falling to her knees as she panted heavily. But she was grinning widely, obviously pleased with the results. 

Allison opened her mouth to call out to her but Cora and Isaac were faster. They raced ahead like one, claws and fangs flashing. 

“Wait!” Allison yelled but it was too late. The woman never saw them coming. Her face perfectly captured her surprise as Isaac’s claws raked across her throat. She let out a wet gurgle before falling face down, drowning in a puddle of her own blood.

“What wasn’t necessary!” Allison shouted aggreved, “She’d stopped!”

“She would have killed us if we hadn’t killed her!” Cora shouted back, waving at their surroundings. “Look around you! It’s kill or be killed out here if you’re a werewolf!”

Something inside the cottage next to them groaned before giving up. They all jumped back as the structure collapsed into itself, a small cloud of heated sparks and ash rising up. Stiles’ arms felt the heat full force as he used them to protect his face. He yelped when a tiny drop of burning ash or wood fell on his arm. Jumping back, Stiles frantically rubbed the red spot. 

“We need to get the hell away from all these burning buildings,” he said, well aware of how useless of a comment it was given that half the city was burning. They had to go deeper into the fold, where the fires were raging the hardest and hottest. 

A howl cut through the crackling noise, causing the werewolves in their group to freeze. 

“Mom,” Cora whispered, face stricken as she burst into a flat-out run. Isaac was behind her in a heartbeat, jumping over the burning remains that littered the street. Stiles exchanged a look with his friends before holding onto his bag with both hands and racing after the werewolves. 

Almost every building was burning around them. Some of them had fallen in on themselves like the cottage behind them. But some of them had crumbled into the street, burning beams and all. The fire and heat was like a physical being that seemed to be trying to reach out and grab him. Stiles could feel it’s teasing touch against the back of his neck, his cheeks, and his arms. As he shuffled past a burning pile of stone, hay and wood, Stiles held his breath and prayed. Luckily, he managed to pass without getting anything more than soot on his jeans. 

As soon as he was on the other side, Stiles heaved a huge sigh of relief, “I never want to do that _ever again_.” He said to Lydia, who had gone through the small space first.

But she wasn’t paying attention. She was staring at the scene before. Stiles followed her gaze and felt his breath catch. A small group of werewolves - two of them actual wolves - were dodging bullets while trying to take down the group of humans three times their size. Shielding his eyes from the fire burning next to them, Stiles squinted at the fighting werewolves. Cora and Isaac were already jumping into the fray, helping Boyd and Derek take down their attackers. Scott was throwing one of the humans over a wall. And there were … 

“Who the hell are the wolves?” He shouted but no one answered.

There were three other werewolves fighting with them but Stiles didn’t know them. All of them were fighting tooth and nail against at two dozen soldiers. Maybe more, maybe less. Stiles couldn’t tell. It was hard to focus when the heat was overwhelming his every sense. 

Lydia shouted suddenly, “There! At the back! I see Gerard and Kate!” 

Stiles squinted through the glowing ash fluttering through the air, following her finger. The crowd parted just enough for Stiles to get a view of the pair. They stood side-by-side at the very end. Kate’s hair was swept up with the hot air flowing past her, making her hair shine like liquid gold. Even from the distance, Stiles could make out the pleased look on Gerard’s face and it made his skin crawl.

“Allison! Scott!” Stiles shouted, turning behind to watch the woman stumble out next to him. She looked up, “They’re over there!”

Her dark eyes followed his frantic pointing. Relief lit up her face before it was morphed into determination and then calculation. Stiles could see the gears working behind her eyes. 

“How the hell are we going to get to them?” Scott asked, looking at the fight that lay between them and their destination.

That was a good question. What could they do? If they couldn’t go down the straight path then… Aha! Stiles pointed at the small alley to their left. “We could go down there, take the first right and see if we come up behind them? That’d be the easiest way to get the jump on them _and _avoid getting into the fight.”

Lydia shook her head almost immediately, hair glowing the same color as the fire around them. “It’ll take too long. Besides, we don’t even know if there _is _a path. There’s no guarantee that’ll work. We might wind up going too far behind and find that road cut off by something like that.” She pointed back at the foot of space they’d just crawled through.

He hated it when she did that. “I hate it when you do that!” Stiles complained, ducking when a bullet flew too close to their group, pinging off a wall and into the collapsed building, “You got any bright ideas then it’s about time you shared them!”

The dirty look she gave him only made him gesture impatiently because if she _did _have some good idea then _now _was the time to share with the group. When she continued to glare back, Stiles ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. What was the best way to go through a bunch of people fighting with guns and magic, _without _anyone getting hurt? 

“We could go over them?” Allison suggested, “Climb on a roof and avoid the fight?”

Scott immediately shot that idea down, “How’d we get up there though? I know I can but what about the rest of you? Unless you’ve got some rope?”

When everyone shook their head, Stiles groaned and tugged harder on his hair. _‘Calm down. Analyze the situation calmly. There has to be a solution. Think Stiles. Just fucking think!’ _

Stiles raked his nails against the back of his neck, “What if I use an air rune to blast a hole through the group? That might disorient everyone long enough for us to get through.” 

One of the magic users slammed her hands against one of the wolves, palms widen open. A pale blast of energy made the wolf fly through the air and against the wall of a building that miraculously hadn’t caught fire. Scott flinched while the others covered their eyes at the bright flare that resulted at the contact. 

“Laura!” Derek shouted.

Laura? The wolf was _Laura_? He lowered his hand, staring at the other wolf who had jumped in between the humans and Laura’s prone body, snarling at the humans. Its red eyes glowed, just like… 

“_Talia _?” Stiles gasped, his feet moving forward of their own accord. But Allison’s hands held him in place. He opened his mouth to tell her to let him go but the words died when he saw Boyd and Derek skid next to Laura’s prone body, pushing rocks and wood off her. The next few seconds were horrible. They stood frozen, watching Derek and Boyd call Laura’s name and gently slap her snout. Isaac and the three other werewolves moved to flank their alpha, offering Derek and Boyd some protection as they tended to Laura. Was she dead? Something like that couldn’t have killed Laura, right? She was stronger than that. She was a werewolf for crying out loud! Surely she could withstand an attack like that (even if it had been powerful enough to cause a _stone wall _to fall around her).

A feather could have knocked him over when he saw Laura stir, trying to rise up using her front paws but failing. Boyd’s hand pressed against her chest almost immediately, supporting her as she got up. Derek’s hands similarly were against her flank and her belly. She was alive. Laura was still alive. Thank God! 

Allison’s hand was warm and tight around his wrist, a solid grip. Similarly, her voice was steady as a rock when she asked, “How big of a hole can you make through the group? Do you have enough juice for it?”

He thought about it. Usually, he could conjure up enough strength to create a gust of air strong enough to knock Scott off his feet. But that was with his regular oil, right now he had Deaton's birch oil which seemed to amplify his magic. But then there was the fact that he’d had a panic attack only hours ago. Sure he’d taken two brews to push his energy level up but it would put a strain on him. Regardless of those brews, Stiles felt that the only two things that were keeping him on his feet were sheer panic and pure adrenaline. He was certain as soon as this was over, he was going to drop like a stone into bed and not get up for two days. Maybe even three. That sounded like a good number. 

Speaking of the man, where the hell was Deaton? They were at the front lines and Deaton wasn’t with Talia and her family. He hadn’t been injured, had he? Or worse, killed? Stiles shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back on track. Had he had his Adderall today? This morning seemed too long ago. Too many things had happened too fast. What had Allison asked again? Right, the air gust. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered honestly, “Any other day and I’d tell you it wouldn’t be too strong. But, you saw the fire before. I don’t know if it’s the oil or this place or whatever, but I’m pretty sure I can make it strong enough knock at least a couple of people down. Maybe more. If we’re lucky, it’ll surprise everyone long enough for us to get through.”

He searched his friend’s faces. They all looked highly skeptical and worried. Allison was biting her bottom lip, Lydia was staring at him like she was re-evaluating everything she knew about Stiles and Scott was staring contemplatively at the fight. 

“What other choice do we have? It’s the only option we’ve got short of fighting our way through all those people. And besides,” Scott smirked, “it’s not the worst plan you’ve had.”

“Says the guy who thought it’d be a great idea to super glue their gloves to their lacrosse stick because that’d help them catch more passes!” Stiles returned, mildly offended because it wasn’t like he had the monopoly on bad plans. Sure he might have the _majority _but not the monopoly!

Scott huffed in amusement but didn’t say anything else. So Stiles looked at the girls. Lydia was staring at the group now, flinching when she saw Talia sink her teeth into one of the soldiers’ neck. Blood splattered against another soldiers face, who screamed and fell back into another soldier.

“Wait,” She declared, pulling another bottle out of her bag along with a blue marker. 

Stiles watched her sketch a half circle and a straight line that met the circle right in the middle into the white cloth. An incomplete moon glyph for fire. “What’re you doing?”

“Just in case we need some extra fire power going through,” she answered back, popping the marker close.

Stiles glanced at the bottle before asking, “And how’re you going to complete it?”

“Leave that up to me. You just tell me if you need some extra help.”

Allison set her shoulders back and nodded, crossbow up and aimed, “Whenever you’re ready Stiles.”

Right. Stiles dipped his index finger into the oil and exhaled noisily. “Here goes nothing.” He mumbled, holding his hand up, palm facing the group. As he drew a triangle on the back of his hand, Stiles saw the others tense out of the corner of his eye. They were ready to jump in the second they got the chance. 

Licking his dry lips, Stiles drew a line under the tip of the triangle and flicked it up. He pressed his second palm into the rune, doubling the magic he was about to do and poured all his concentration into willing up the biggest blast of air he could imagine. Something big enough to knock the entire group of humans out of their path. The rune glowed a bright white between his hands, the light compressing and fading as it passed through his skin in front of his palm, gathering into a small ball of white before it turned into the biggest rush of wind he’d ever conjured up.

Staggered back, Stiles’ surprised yelp was drowned out under the shouts of the human group as they were bowled over the sudden gust of powerful wind. He staggered back into Scotts’ arm, who helped him back on his feet immediately before dragging him forward through the path that had opened up for them.

“I never knew you could do that!” His best friend yelled at him as they raced past the disoriented humans and werewolves.

“Neither did I!” Stiles admitted, hopping over the hand that reached out to grab his foot. It would be incredibly shitty form to literally trip up right at the end of their whole journey. Not only would Stiles never forgive himself for that, but he was sure that his _friend’s _wouldn’t ever let him live that down either. Everyone involved in the fight was temporarily incapacitated by his blast of air.

Allison made a beeline for her family, panting as she asked, “_ What _are you all doing? What’s going on? Why are you attacking the city?”

But Stiles noted, with a certain amount of surprise that Gerard was _glaring _at her. And then at Scott, of all people. 

“What is he doing here?” He asked, eyes flashing in anger as he hissed at Kate, “You told me you’d taken care of this!”

“I thought I had,” Kate snapped back, disdainfully looking Scott up and down, “It’s not my fault good help is hard to find.”

There were a few moments in his life when Stiles truly understood the meaning of the phrase ‘the rug pulled out from under your feet’. The first time had been finding out his mom was going to die. The second was getting a call telling him his dad had been shot on duty when Stiles had been 17. And now, for the third time in his life, as Kate _confirmed _that the Argents _had _tried to kill Scott, Stiles felt the whole _world _tilt on its damn axis and he was falling into space.

Allison seemed to be experiencing a similar sensation. She was shaking her head slightly when she asked, “You..._ what _?”

Gerard held her hand out, impatiently gesturing for Allison to step forward and take it after Allison stood there staring at it. “Allison. Step away from that monster and come over here.” 

But it wasn’t her grandfather’s words which caused her to jerk into action; it was the fact that Kate pulled a gun out of her holster and leveled it at Scott. They _all _took a step back in shock at that. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Allison asked, wide eyes flying between the gun and her family. 

Behind them, the fight resumed. Stiles could hear the gunfire going back up again, along with shouts, snarls, and roars. But they were being left to their own devices.

“I would think it’s _obvious _what we’re doing,” Gerard began walking around Kate, nodding at someone. Stiles turned to see who the man was gesturing at but found his arms being twisted behind his back by a man twice his side. Fuck! Where'd that guy come from? An angry shout from next to him made Stiles realize that Lydia had similarly been grabbed. Twisting his head to the side confirmed this. Lydia was snapping and trying to stomp on her captors feet but they only twisted her arm harder. She let out a pained cry. 

“Try that again and I’ll break your arm,” the guy warned Lydia. 

‘_Well that sets the tone for the conversation.’ _Stiles thought, testing how much wriggle room he had. Not a lot as it turned out. His right arm was tucked tight against his spine and far, _far _away from his bag. Which this guy was pulling off his shoulder and kicking away well out of Stiles’ reach. Lydia’s guy did the same with her bag, tugging it off her shoulder and throwing it away carelessly.

“Be careful with that!” Lydia snapped at the man, “There’s highly explosive chemicals in there! Do you want to blow us all up?” 

Her guard gave her an unimpressed look and forced her to look straight ahead. Where Scott was growling at the dark haired soldier who had come out of nowhere and pulled a gun on Scott as well. He was pressing the barrel against his best friend’s skull, asking Kate, “Should I do it?” 

That finally pushed Allison into motion. She darted forward with an angry, “Get _away _from him!”

Not expecting the attack, or not daring to raise his hand against Argent, the soldier got punched out for his act. The man even _spun _on his heel before falling to the floor, chin first. Stiles winced imagining how much _that _was going to hurt but he couldn’t find it in him to sympathize beyond that. He would have done the same thing if Allison hadn’t. Eyes burning, Allison stood between Kate’s gun and Scott, crossbow pointed towards Kate’s chest as she glared back.

“Allison!” Gerard snapped, face twisted in anger, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You need to get away from that animal!”

Anger bubbled in him at the same time confused shock filled Allison’s face. “Ani- _Grandpa _! It’s Scott! My _husband_!”

“And he’s a shifter! A werewolf!” Gerard spat the word out like it was a curse, “He’s dangerous and needs to be put down like the dog he is.” 

Stepping around Kate, Gerard moved to grab Allison’s arm and forcibly pulled her away from Scott. Allison’ heels dragged against the stone, body twisting as she tried to pull away but Gerard was stronger. Stiles thought he heard Boyd shout something but he couldn’t make it out. A wolf snarled loudly behind them. A voice began to chant, air flowing back as the magic user focused their energies. Their voice was cut off with a wet gurgle and triumphant bark.

“You’ll find another husband. Someone better. Someone _human_. You don’t have to stay with this creature now that he’s changed. You’re not going to stay married to someone who’d choose to become a monster.”

Allison looked helplessly at Scott, whose face had shifted. He was growling loud enough for Stiles to hear as Gerard made Allison look at him. She looked less like the confident woman Stiles knew her to be and more of a scared child as she stared up into her grandfather’s wild eyes, “I’m sorry you had to learn about the truth like this but this is better for you. You dad didn’t want you known but the rest of us felt otherwise. It’s about time you learned about your family history. That you learned the truth of our world.”

Someone screamed, followed by a triumphant shout. But the tableau playing out before there was more riveting than the bloody action that was unfolding behind them.

“Family history?” Allison asked, wide eyes flying between Kate and Gerard, “_What _are you talking about? And what does it have to do with Scott?”

With a hard eye roll, Kate muttered, “I _told _you we should have told her before we started this trip. I kept telling Chris we had to bring you in but he kept refusing. Said he wanted to wait until you were older. He never wanted this life but respected Victoria’s choice to be in it. After she died, he cut himself out completely. Said he didn’t want anything to do with us and that he didn’t want us bringing you into our life either.”

Stiles got the impression this was an old and sore point for Kate. Meanwhile, Allison looked completely and utterly lost, “I… I don’t understand. What does… Mom was a part of this?”

Her expression shifted into shocked horror when Kate suddenly snapped at the soldiers behind them, “Why can’t you people shoot the wolves already? What the hell did I train you all for?” 

In a blink, Kate had bent down to pick up one of the soldiers discarded guns and was shooting at the werewolves. With a lot more precision than the soldiers had been. Within seconds she’d forced the werewolves to retreat behind the same wall that Laura had crashed into.

“Kate! No!” Allison shouted. But Gerard held her back. The old man was surprisingly strong for being so on in his years. Twisting back, Allison asked, “Grandpa, what-?”

“Kate told you about this city’s bloody history, didn’t she? Told you about the monsters that live here. But she didn’t tell you the whole story,” He told her, pulling a gun out of his holster to point it at Scott’s chest, “She didn’t tell you about the role our family had.”

“_Your _family?” Stiles sound himself parroting. 

But Gerard spoke over him, “It all began many centuries ago in old Ireland. When shifters and humans used to live together at court.”

“Ireland?” Allison interrupted, shaking her head in obvious confusion. “I thought our family was from France? Dad said we were from South of France. He even took me to visit the castle we came from.”

He gave her granddaughter a hard shake. Scott let out a growl as Lydia and Stiles shouted, “Leave her alone!” “Stop it! You’re hurting her!”

“If you’ll stop talking then I’ll explain,” Gerard told Allison, “Kate, go help the others. Remember, don’t kill the wolves. Everyone else is fine.” 

Instructions given, Gerard turned his attention back to Allison and the rest of them, “Where was I? Ah yes. Many centuries ago in old Ireland, shifters and humans used to live together. The shifters had used their magics and wiles to convince the King to let them stay. For many years, those animals stayed at court, poisoning the king’s mind with their lies. They convinced him to let them bring their families. To plant roots in his land. William, an ancestor of ours, was a close friend and advisor to the King and he was against bringing the shifters in. He saw those animals for what they were – filthy monsters who would do anything to further their own cause. He tried his best to convince the King not to listen to the shifters but he was under their thrall. The King would listen to the shifters more than William. William was foolish enough to think that because his son was going to marry the princess, the King would listen to him. Treat him equally.”

Stiles felt his breath catch. He was finally getting the other side of the story. A small voice in his head practically crowed in delight at being proven right about Kate lying when she had told the story. But there was something else that was causing warning bells to ring in Stiles’ head. Gerard had used the name ‘William’. Derek had said ‘Argat’. Who was right? Which was the right name?

“But one of the werewolves in the castle seduced the princess. He’d tricked his way into the King’s guard and bribed the right people to become the princess’s Royal Guard. This creature seduced her and convinced her to break her engagement off to Niall. Used her to feed more of the shifter lies to the King. William tried to warn the King, tried to convince him that the knight was using the princess but it was no use.

But the knight _was _a monster in the end. He couldn’t hide his true nature for long. It lured the princess into the forest and bite her. She would either become one of them or die. William found out about that monsters plans too late. They arrived at the forest just in time to see the bloody animal next to her dead body, her blood on his hands. William and his soldiers used their weapons and magic to capture the crazed animal and locked him away in the dungeon. ”

“Luckily!” Gerard pointed out, letting go of Allison and walking around to face Scott. The barrel of his gun pressed against Scott’s sternum, “William was an intelligent man. He had known for _years _that the shifters had plans to take over the throne. And even though the King hadn’t listened to him, William had made arrangements of his own. Him, and other people like him, had been looking into ways to deal with shifters in case something went wrong. They’d hoped that they wouldn’t have to, but eventually...”

The man shrugged, barely blinking an eye when a gunshot rang out and a familiar voice cried out in pain. “Boyd!” Allison jerked forward, chest slamming into Gerard’s outstretched arm.

Lydia was screaming bloody murder, shouting curses and expletives. His own body jerked, fighting against his captor but it was no use. But Stiles managed to turn around enough to see Boyd fall to his knees. He saw the man drop his spear, hand curling around his thigh. Stiles hoped that the bullet hadn’t struck bone. Isaac shouted the man’s name but had to duck when a ball of ice came flying at his head. One of the other werewolves jumped forward to drag Boyd out of the line of fire. Kate shouted at the soldiers to help her. 

Gerard ignored all the pandemonium and continued with his story, “A lot the shifters were known in court. They’d never bothered hiding their true faces, thinking they could lord over humans through intimidation. But there were more many shifters who kept their true nature hidden. Who stayed in the shadows and worked to further their cause behind the scenes. They were the most dangerous shifters of them all because they could go anywhere they wanted. Unchecked. They could get close to the King. Become part of his Privy Council and poison his mind. William knew this. He understood the danger that these shifters posed to the King. He knew they needed some way to identify the shifters. So he contacted a coven.”

Gerard put his hands on Allison’s chin, forcing her to look at Scott’s shifted face, “William worked with the coven to make a spell that would reveal any shifter’s true nature, no matter what. They wouldn’t be able to hide with the humans anymore. When the King found out that he’d lost his only daughter at the hands of her murderous knight, he begged for help and forgiveness. If only that fool had listened to William’s warnings then his daughter wouldn’t have been murdered.

William agreed to help the King. The werewolf who had killed the princess would be stripped of his humanity and killed in front of the entire court using a spell that William had developed. It would strip away the shifters human faces and reveal their monstrous truth to the world. William to lead his personal army and the King’s Guard on a mission to avenge the death of the princess. To kill all those bastard monsters who'd taken advantage of the King's kindness. 

They went through out the land, getting rid of all the traitorous scum. In fact, they continued to hunt shifters _long _after the king died. William swore an oath that he and his family would cleanse the world of these monsters so that they could prevent another tragedy from happening again. Eventually William’s family moved to France. His grandson married an Earl’s daughter and they decided to build their life in Southern France instead of Ireland. That was when we changed the family name to Argent. Do you know what it means?”

“It’s French,” Allison replied quietly, “For Silver.”

It was like being struck by lightning. _That _was the connection he hadn’t been able to make. That niggling feeling that he’d been missing something vitally important that was dancing right under his name.

“Argat.” Stiles croaked out, feeling his knees grow weak because Derek had been right. Derek had been right all along, “Your old family name was _Argat_.”

Allison didn’t look like she understand and Stiles couldn’t blame her. But Lydia did. Stiles heard her sharp inhale. But Stiles focused his attention on Gerard. The old man looked surprised for a split second before he asked in a hard, sharp tone, “How do you know that name?”

“Derek told me,” Stiles replied, jutting his chin out when Gerard gestured for the guard to bring Stiles closer. He struggled but it was useless. But it didn’t stop Stiles from dragging the soles of his shoes against the ground. 

“_Who _told you that name.” Gerard repeated again.

“Alpha Hale’s son. The knight in your story,” Stiles spat out, “He told me what_ really _happened. Not this bullshit story you're peddling.”

With a slimy grin, Gerard replied, “It’s the truth Stiles. You might not like it, but that _is _what happened.” Gerard’s words and smug attitude felt like oil rolling off his skin. Stiles wanted to dunk his body under a body of water and scratch it off. “We’re not the enemy. _They _are. They’re the ones who started this war because they got too greedy. We’re the good guys.”

“If you’re the good guys then why did you try to have Scott killed?” Stiles spat back, anger giving him strength to resume his struggle, “And what do you call what you’re doing right now? You’re killing innocent people _right now_! That’s _not _what good people do!”

Gerard’s face twisted in disgust. He pressed the barrel of his gun harder against Scott’s chest, hissing, “He chose to become one of them! He decided he’d rather live like a monster than die a human. If that’s the path he’s chosen then he can _die _like a monster as well! We have no tolerance for shifters or people who support them. Shifters are wild animals and that's how they deserve to be treated!”

Momentarily speechless, Stiles stared at the old man. He’d thought… He’d _hoped _that when they’d found Gerard they’d be able to reason with him. But Stiles understood now. There was no reasoning with a fanatic. Stiles wondered if William Argat had manipulated the truth from the start. He had to have, Stiles shook his head as he began to understand the _magnitude _of the man’s lies. It had been _one man’s _greed, twisted ambitions, and hatred that had led to this moment.

Scott’s eyes flashed orange in the light of the fire as he snarled, “I’m the _same _person I was before I got bit! The same person who married Allison years ago! I was close to _dying _when I got the choice to take the bite and live! How can you blame me for wanting to _live_?”

The old man used two fingers to gesture for someone to come forward. Stiles heard heavy footsteps approach, boot scruffing against the stone. He saw a man come to stop behind Scott. Stiles felt a cry rise up in his throat when he saw the man raise his rifle. The rifle butt connected hard enough Scott’s head to cause the skin to break. Gerard smirked as Scott fell to his knees in front of him.

“Keep your mouth shut, _dog_,” the man snarled, pointing his rifle at Scott’s head. 

Allison took up where Scott left off, reaching out towards her grandfather, “He’s right! Scott’s the same person he was before he changed. He’s still the man I love and married! Nothing about him has changed as a person!”

“The only thing that’s changed if your opinion of him and _that’s _because you’re a bigot!” Lydia snapped.

“_Everything _about him has changed!” Gerard yelled back. Lydia and Allison both jerked back at the angry reply, paling when Gerard stepped closer to Scott, fisted a hand in his hair and used to pull the man up. Scott’s hands shot up immediately with a startled cry of pain, ready to claw the man away but the gun barrel returned to his head. 

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” The soldier warned Scott.

Meanwhile Gerard turned Scott’s face towards Allison and then Lydia as he declared, “Look at his face! There’s _nothing _human about him! He’s a monster! And there’s only thing that we do with monsters. Jefferson! Get rid of him” 

The soldier nodded, adjusting his grip on the rifle before tightening his trigger finger. Lydia and Stiles shouted at the same time. Allison threw herself forward towards the guard but this time Gerard forced her to stop. With one arm around her waist, he held Allison’s thrashing body back. The soldier's eyes ticked up to Gerard before his finger began to squeeze.

“We got her!” Kate’s triumphant shout rang over them.

“Hold it!” Gerard snapped at the soldier, who immediately relaxed his hand. Trembling with nerves, Stiles watched Gerard let go of Allison, who shakily stumbled a few steps back, before swiftly walking past Scott. 

His guard still held him so that he was facing Scott, which meant Stiles just had to turn his head to see what Kate was doing. She was walking over a pile of crumbling rocks, gun towards the dark shape that lay underneath a wooden beam. Stiles could make out a twitching paw. Was it Laura or Talia that Kate had taken down? Dread filled Stiles when his swept over the rest of them and took in the whole scene. 

Talia lay wounded in the middle of the street, panting wetly against the stone road. Laura and Derek were trapped in a mountain ash circle. The wolf kept throwing herself into the barrier, letting out distressed, angry noises at the humans who were approaching her mom. Derek stood still, trembling with barely restrained anger as he watched Kate kneel down and grab Talia by the scruff of her neck. Cora and Isaac were on their knees on the opposite side of the street, blood dripping down their face while they glared up at the trio pointing guns at them. The other werewolves lay dead in the middle of the street, a puddle of black slowly spreading underneath their bodies.

“So this is the strength of an alpha,” Gerard mused as he came to stand in front of Kate, staring down at the wolf, “Not as intimidating as I thought they’d be.” 

Kate’s low laugh made Stiles’ arm hair rise. “What’s so intimidating about a dumb beast like this?” She gave Talia a hard shake. Talia snarled and snapped her teeth. Kate immediately swung the gun into Talia’s face. It connected with a hard, wet smack. The werewolves around them snarled angrily, Laura throwing herself into the barrier once again before standing as close to the barrier edge as possible. Talia’s eyes slowly flickered open, rolling around before locking onto the woman holding her. A rumbling growl turned into a pained yelp when Kate pushed the barrel of her gun into the gunshot wounds against the alpha’s side. 

“That’s better,” She smirked, gesturing at a nearby soldier to help her pull Talia up. 

What were they planning to do? Stiles wondered, going still when he realized his captor’s grip on him had loosened. He couldn’t let the man figure out his mistake. If he was going to take advantage of this, he needed to do it fast. But how? His bag was out of reach and everyone else had been captured. There was Allison but she looked so shaken up Stiles doubted she’d be of much help. And there was a soldier standing right behind her. She’d probably grab Allison just like Gerard just had if she tried to do anything. And as long as Scott had a gun to his head, Stiles doubted she’d want to take any risks.

He licked his lips, told himself to wait for a window of opportunity. They all held their breath when Gerard bent down on eye level with Talia. Red eyes locked with pale blue ones and the old man grinned.

“Alpha Hale,” He began slowly, a mean smile growing over his thin lips, “It’s so nice to see you again. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances but... we had a job to do you see. I _had _hoped to surprise you in your home and kill you there. But somehow you found out about our attack a lot faster than we’d anticipated. But I suppose that doesn’t matter given that you came running straight to me.”

Stiles felt his captor shift, turning slightly so that he had a better view of Gerard talking with the alpha werewolf. The grip he had on Stiles’ arm loosened further. Forcing himself to remain _absolutely _still was the hardest task of Stiles' life. When he heard the angry growl tumbling in Talia’s chest, Stiles felt his shoulders twitch. Thankfully, the guard didn’t pay him any mind.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Gerard warned her easily, “It’s your choice. I’d prefer the easy way but if you want to do it the hard way then… I don’t have any objections.”

Confusion and terror clashed in his head. He saw Scott giving Gerard and then him a baffled look. Scott looked just like how Stiles felt. What kind of choice? What was the old man planning? Talia snarled and showed all her bloodied teeth as she tried to snap Kate again. This time when Kate dug the gun into her bullet wound, Talia thrashed and tried to kick herself away. But Kate and the soldier held her firmly in place as Gerard began to roll his shirt sleeve up.

Stiles heard Lydia whisper, “What is he doing?” but no one answered.

His initial guess turned on its head when Gerard ordered Kate and the soldier to get Talia’s mouth open. 

_‘Mouth? What’s he… no.’ _Stiles thought in alarm. Gerard wasn’t going to do what Stiles thought he was going to do... was he? Not after that whole speech about shifters being animals and monsters?

Kate pulled a taser out of her belt, “Stand back.” She warned the guard.

There was one second where everything seemed to stand still. The taser crackled in Kate’s hand. The soldier took a step back. Talia’s body shifted, looking like she was ready to make a break for it. And the taser came down on her neck. Lydia screamed. Talia yelped and fell to the ground. The agonizing sounds coming out of her mouth were drowned out by the angry shouts her children and pack members. The shouting and whimpering and crackling noises seemed endless, ringing in Stiles’ head so hard he knew he’d never forget the sound of it.

“You do that again and I’m going to _kill _you,” Stiles heard Cora spit out.

Kate rolled her eyes, tucked the taser away, and grabbed Talia by the scruff of her neck with both hands. “You. Grab her. No, under her jaw. Force her mouth open.”

Gerard just stood and watched the soldier try and wedge a knife in between Talia’s teeth. 

“Are you going to make her _bite _you?” Stiles found himself asking loudly, “Why the hell would you do that after everything you _just _said?”

Looking away from where Kate and another soldier, Gerard replied, “I have my reasons.”

Disbelief filled Stiles because what? What kind of reasons would make a fanatic like Gerard Argent seek out the same thing that he so hated? As soon as Kate and the soldier had forced Talia’s mouth open, bloodied fangs on full display, Gerard walked forward. Talia tried to squirm away, back legs kicking weakly against the ground but she couldn’t move. The after effects of being electrocuted for so long seemed to have sapped her of her strength.

She whimpered when Gerard put his forearm in between Talia’s teeth and ordered her, “Bite.” 

Talia resisted. She tried to keep her jaw open but one good twist of a gun barrel inside her wounds and another jolt of electricity to her flank had her jaws clamping down on Gerard’s arm. A shout welled in Stiles' immediately. Blood dripped sluggishly down Gerard’s arm. Laura howled, long and agonized. 

After a few seconds, Gerard grunted, “That’s enough,” and pulled his arm out of Talia’s maw.

Hands free, the soldiers kicked Talia down and pressed her boot down onto the alpha’s wounded side. She pointed her rifle at the panting alpha while Kate walked over to stand next to her father. She peered down at the dripping wound, frowning when she asked, “Do you think it will take?” 

“It should. We’ll know for sure in the next 24 hours.” Gerard replied, watching Kate wipe the blood away before snatching the cloth out of his daughter’s hand. He wrapped it around the bite mark, knotting it clumsily as he continued, “That’s more than enough time to prepare.”

What _else _had the Argents planned? Stiles thought, mind spinning. _How _could there be more to this madness?

“Do we still need to check around if these people have records of the curse?” Kate asked, like she was talking about the weather at a tea party instead of standing in the middle of a battlefield. She was still ignoring all the angry threats the Hale pack was snarling at her and Gerard. “Why even bother cursing these people when we can just kill them? We’ve got them outmaneuvered and outgunned. They don’t stand a chance.”

They were planning on using the curse? Stiles met Lydia’s wide eyes and saw his own shock mirrored there. What was _that _accomplish?

Gerard rolled her eyes, “I’ve told you before Kate. That’s not the point. The point is to see if the curse works. If it _does_, then we can use it on the outside to find more animals who’ve been hiding from us. It’s not that hard to understand.”

“That’s taking the fun out of the hunt,” Kate returned, flipping her hair over a shoulder, “You just don’t appreciate the _right _way to do things.”

“Not all of us enjoy making things more difficult than they already are.” The man snapped back, “Just like how you messed up with that Stilinski kid over there.” Kate’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. But whatever reply she was going to make had to wait when Gerard continued, “But that’s in the past. This is not the time or place for your pettiness. I need you to follow my orders, not question them at every turn. Now take care of these pests and move on. The other groups should be engaging with other targets. If we’re lucky, those idiots haven’t killed the pack Emissaries and we’ll be able to use them to get the information we need. If not, we’ll use Stilinski to translate the curse.”

Stiles’ head shot up in alarm, “I’m not going to help you! You can’t make me!” 

Throwing his head back, Gerard laughed. Actually laughed like Stiles had just told him the funniest of jokes. “Oh, but you are,” The man smiled unpleasantly, “Because if you don’t, we’re going to kill your friends right in front of you. One by one. So, you behave. Or else I’m going to tell that man over there,” Gerard pointed at the Lydia, “to shoot her in the head.”

Lydia’s face was pale as chalk, her eyes wide in horror. Stiles stared at her, mind frantically weighing his choices. 

_‘Stall!’ _his brain shouted at him, _‘You need to stall him! Buy some time!’ _

He could do that.

“What guarantee do I have you’re not going to make me help you and shoot us all anyways? How can I trust you to keep your word?” Stiles challenged back, “And what the hell do you want me to translate anyways? Any information these people might have about the curse? I hate to break it to you but they don’t have anything like that. That information was with William Argat or the witches he forced to help him.”

There was a quick flicker of surprise in Gerard’s eyes. But the old man caught sight of Derek pounding his fist against the mountain ash barrier and understanding replaced surprise. “I suppose your little friend there told you about the curse as well?” Staring coolly at Derek, Gerard’s eyes lingered on his claws before he asked Stiles, “Was he cursed back then? Or was it someone in his family? Well. I don’t suppose it matters. If you know then this makes it easier for both of us. And to answer your other question, why _wouldn’t _these people keep information of the curse? Wouldn’t you want to understand the problem before trying to solve it?”

Pulling a sour face, Stiles bit his tongue. When Gerard put it like that…The man was pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. Stiles eyed it with equal parts caution and curiosity. Was he going to be asked to translate something on the spot and be forced to use magic on Cora and Isaac? After he’d unfolded the pages, Gerard walked over to Stiles. And held the two sheets in front of Stiles’ face. 

“Do these this look familiar?” The man asked.

Frowning, Stiles’ eyes flew over the text. His eyes widened and flew up to meet Gerard’s smug face, “How did you-Why do you have those? When did you tear them out of the journal?”

“Who do you think helped you grandfather find the journal?” The man’s smugness only grew, turning the papers so that he could look at the writing, “He was _so _desperate to find the city that he accepted my help without thinking about it. Just like you did. I have to thank him though. If it wasn’t for his help, for all the research he did, we never would have the journal. It’s a shame that he realized the truth though.” 

When his pale eyes met Stiles’ they glittered with an evil glee. 

An icy cold hand pierced through Stiles’ chest, gripped his heart, and squeezed for all its worth. “No,” he violently shook his head, “You didn’t...”

“Oh, but I did,” Gerard folded the papers back up and tucked them away in his pocket, “Your grandfather had the foolish notion that he could run away with the journal. Keep it away from me. Your grandfather almost got away with it too. But we caught up with him in time. Right at the airport. Once we got the journal back, we disposed of him and made his death look like an accident. And no one was the wiser. After all, explorers and adventurers die often enough on dangerous expeditions. Oh _if only _Alexis had bothered to check his rope before trying to scale that wall.” 

Stiles shook with anger while Gerard chuckled, “You have no idea the lengths I had to go to to make sure you would accept my offer. There was no room for mistakes. All I had to do was make sure every single committee you went up in front of would turn you down. You were _just _like your grandfather when you accepted my help without even a _single _question.”

Humiliation burned in him. Stiles looked away, unable to meet anyone’s eyes in that moment. And Gerard spoke on, “And now, you’re going to help me finish the mission than William Argat started centuries ago and rid the world of these damn pests.”

“I’m _never _going to help you!” Stiles declared low but vehemently, “There’s no _way _.”

Gerard clicked his tongue and pointed back at Lydia, reminding him of his previous threat, “You are. Or you all die. It’s your choice how much blood you want on your hands Stiles.” 

There were too many emotions flowing through Stiles when he turned to look at Lydia. Anger, however, was at the forefront. The heat that had been pulsing through him cooled when he saw that Lydia now had a knife against her throat. What the hell should he do? Stiles wondered. When his eyes ticked up to Lydia’s face, he saw nothing but steely determination there. Stiles paused, eyes widening when he saw her nod softly at him. Lydia had something planned. He knew it. The look in her eyes asked him to wait and trust her.

Stiles wasn’t sure what she was planning but he’d honestly rather go down fighting than give in to Gerard’s demands. He turned to look at Allison, and then Scott. They looked at each other before giving Stiles and Lydia the tiniest of nods. They were all on-board. What better way to go out than with a bang, Stiles thought as he clenched his sweaty together. As soon as he had the chance, he was going to elbow the goon behind him in the gut, punch his lights out and use his oil to blast the Argents with a fire rune. That sounded as good as any other fly by the seat of his pants plan. All they needed now, was some kind of diversion that would distract the soldiers and Gerard long enough for them to do… something. Anything. Everything.

Allison cleared her throat. Stiles tensed because this was it. Gerard turned to face her, raising a questioning eyebrow, “What is it?”

Her voice shook when she spoke, “If I’m going to join you…then I want to do it myself.” She nodded at Scott. “I want to kill him myself.”

“I told you she’d join us,” Kate purred happily, “That’s my girl. It’s about time you came to your senses.”

Pleased as well, Gerard nodded at the guy standing behind Scott. As soon as the gun barrel was off his head, Scott sagged forward. But just as quickly, he tensed again when Allison pointed her crossbow at him. 

His shoulders dropped, hands coming up as he pleaded from his knees, “Allison. Please don’t do this.”

Allison licked her lips. The crossbow shook minutely but remained locked on Scott’s chest, “I have to.” She replied shakily, “My family is right. I didn’t… I didn’t see it before. I was in shock. But I understand now. You and your kind are nothing but animals. You’re a danger to the rest of us and we need to put you down.” 

She took a step forward, and another until she stood a few feet away from where Scott was kneeling, crossbow aimed at Scott’ head. There was a tense moment between them where the couple started at each other, breaking only when Kate snapped, “Kill him already Allison!”

There was a heart stopping moment when Allison’s expression hardened, finger tightening on the trigger mechanism. And in that horrifying moment, Stiles thought she was actually going to shoot Scott. That it hadn’t all been an act to get Gerard to let his guard down. But at the last second, she raised her crossbow and shot Kate. The blonde stumbled back, crying out when the bolt sank through her shoulder.

Gerard shouted, “Stop them!” But Scott was already on his feet, snarling as he slashed at the soldier standing behind him. The man went down with a cry, hand pressed against his chest. He stumbled, finger twitching against the trigger hard enough for a few shots to fly. It was sheer dumb luck that one of those bullets flew past Lydia’s captor. So close that the soldier ducked, which gave Lydia the chance she needed to turn around and slam the heel of her palm into her captor’s jaw. 

At the same time, Stiles jerked forward with all his strength. He slipped out of his guards loose grip with ease. He heard the man cry out but ignored it, stumbling forward into a roll to avoid being captured again. 

“Duck!” Lydia yelled right as he stopped and peeked up. 

She stood in between their group and the soldiers, right next to her open satchel. In her hands, was a familiar bottle with a light rag at the top. Stiles could make out two red dots on either side of the line dividing the half circle in two. Lydia had used her own blood to complete the rune. Lydia pulled her arm back and threw the bottle at the Argents.

“Shit!” Scott yelped, grabbing Allison and dropping to the ground as Stiles buried his face back into the ground. 

There was an almighty boom that was going to ring in his ears till dooms day. A wave of fire and heat flew over his back. The sheer force and heat of the explosion made Stiles wonder if the tips of his hair were burning. He raised his hand up to touch his hair to check. It felt more frizzy than usual but nothing was in fire. Thank fuck for small miracles.

Stiles forced himself up to his feet, staggering as he took stock of the situation post Molotov-cocktail-from-hell. Kate lay on the ground, on top of Gerard; she'd protected her father from the brunt of the clast. The soldier who’d forced Talia’s mouth open was running around shouting in terror as fire crawled up his chest. Lydia was slamming a rock into the head of another soldier while Cora and Isaac took care of the man standing closest to them. Stiles winced at the head butt Cora laid into her assailant. That was going to hurt like hell. Allison and Scott were grabbing Lydia’s bag, shouting at him to get Derek. 

Shit. Right. He hurriedly over to the pair. Laura’s fur bristled with anticipation and rage as he approached the circle.

“Break it!” Derek shouted at him. Stiles dragged his foot over the mountain ash, stepping back when the siblings jumped out.

Laura immediately made a run for Gerard, who was unsteadily getting up on his feet with Kate's help. He felt a hand tug on his shirt, pulling him away from the sight of Gerard shouting at the three soldiers by his side to shoot. Turning around, he discovered it was Scott. Who was eyeing Stiles’ head with some worry. 

“Am I bleeding?” Stiles asked, raising a hand up to check.

Scott nodded just as Stiles saw his bloodied fingers, “Doesn’t look to bad. We’ll bandage it after we get the hell out of here.” 

Allison and Lydia were already moving away, down the road as they shouted, “We need to get out of here!” 

He’d taken a step towards them when he heard a bang and felt something hot and fast fly but an inch away from his cheek. Stiles dropped to the ground like a brick, shouting, “Who the hell shot at me?”

Craning his head around, Stiles saw Kate pointing a gun at their direction. She’d been hurt by Lydia’s bomb as well. Half of her face was flushed. She’d probably been too close to the exploding fire.

“You’re not getting away that easily!” Kate was shouting, aiming for him and Scott. 

Cursing, Stiles tugged Scott behind him because there was no way Kate would kill Scott if Stiles was protecting him. He could only play on the hope that they needed him alive more than they wanted Scott dead. Out of nowhere, Derek rose up from out of the shadows, and grabbed Kate from behind. He twisted her arm, forcing her to drop her gun with a pained cry. He immediately kicked the gun away out of the blonde’s reach, much to Kate’s annoyance if her angry shout was anything to go by. In the next blink, Derek had knocked her out. She went flying back, head and shoulders smacking against stone before she crumpled to the ground.

“Kate!” Allison shouted in alarm but the woman was out cold. They watched Derek swoop down to grab the discarded gun and use it to fire at Gerard, who had been forced behind the corner along with the remaining few members of their group thanks to Laura. Gunfire flew back their way, causing them to duck behind whatever burning rubble they were closest too.

“Derek! Laura! We’ve got her! ” Isaac shouted as he helped Cora pick Talia’s limp body up, “We need to get out of here!”

Stiles nodded, pushing his friends in the opposite direction, “I second that! We need to get out of here and regroup!” 

He’d darted forward only a few feet when he paused. “Shit!” Stiles cursed loudly, realizing that he’d forgotten his bag. Turning around, he saw it lying there in the middle of the street. Ignoring the voices shouting his name, Stiles raced back. Cora and Isaac ran past him, the latter holding the wounded alpha against his chest like a child. Thick black liquid ran down his chest and leg. Stiles _needed _to get his bag and the wolfsbane in it. As soon as they got to safety, he could use it to help Talia. 

He dropped to his knees and slid the last few inches up to his bag, cringing at the pain that shot up his legs. Stiles knew he’d probably skinned his knees but they weren’t important in the grand scheme of things. Frantic hands pulled the bag up but the bottom fell through. Stiles groaned loudly and shouted, “_Oh come on! _”

His fingers frantically searched through the mess of bottles, vials, and papers that littered the street. Of course his bag would die on him right now. Everything was going to shit anyways. Why not his bag too? It was easy enough to find the birch oil – it had been tucked away into the inside pocket. But the wolfsbane was another story. Where the _hell _was that purple vial? Stiles wasn't going to leave until he’d found it!

“Stiles!” He heard Derek shout, right before a hand grabbing his shoulder. “Leave it! Let’s go!”

“Not without the wolfsbane!” Stiles shouted back, growling in irritation as he pushed the sheathed knife and a small pile of crumpled papers out of the way. He let out a triumphant noise when he caught sight of the bottle. There it was!

Grabbing the knife with his right hand, Stiles grabbed the wolfsbane with his left hand. He held onto it tight as he let Derek yank him up. Laura darted past his feet, close enough for her fur to rub against his jeans. Together they ran down the street, chasing after the rest of their group as they zig-zagged their way down the street, ducking any shots that flew their way. Stiles was starting to feel hopeful that they’d get away with their lives intact. They’d find a safe place to hole up, he’d use the wolfsbane on Talia, heal her, and they’d try again. This time with a better plan and then they’d-

Stiles cried out in pain when he felt a hot burning sensation against his left arm. The white hot pain caused his arm to spasm and his fingers to loosen their grip on the bottle. The bottle fell out of his hands and shattered; the purple powder puffing up before scattering with the breeze that was fanning the flames around them higher. A spark of fire brushed against it and the wolfsbane popped and sparked like fireworks.

"No!" Stiles yelled but it was too late.

* * *

They ran until they had come onto First Street. Derek glanced behind them, making sure they weren't being followed. The road had been clear for quite some time now. They could take a quick break before running out of the city. He jogged up to Isaac and Cora, who were at the front of their small group, “Head for the cottage Stiles and the others were staying at. We need to resupply.”

Talia let out a pained whimper at the sound of his voice. Derek felt his heart break at the pain he saw in his mother’s wolf eyes and ran his hand against her cheek, “You’ll be okay. I promise.”

His hand dragged against her face as Isaac picked up the pace, racing ahead of the others now that they had a destination to go too. Laura picked up the pace to run with them, doggedly ignoring the deep gash on her leg that had left a long, bloody trail behind her. Lydia, Allison and Scott were lagging behind him, looking very much the worse for wear. They looked ready to drop when they saw Isaac and the others race ahead but Derek quickly told them, “We’ll head for your cottage. Get everyone cleaned up, tend to my mother.”

Relief filled the human’s weary faces almost immediately and they immediately began to hobble faster towards the cottage that was within sight. Everyone except Stiles who had been quiet ever since he’d accidentally dropped the wolfsbane into the street. 

“It’s alright,” He’d told Stiles as he’d roughly torn the edge of his shirt off and wrapped it around Stiles’ wound. The bullet had just grazed Stiles’ arm but it was bleeding a lot. “There’s more than enough wolfsbane growing around here. We’ll find some and use it.” 

The words had erased the haunted look in Stiles’ eyes but he’d still been terribly quiet. They walked in silence but Derek kept shooting worried glances over at Stiles. It was clear to see that Stile had something on his mind. But Derek didn't dare ask what. Derek guessed he’d been processing the events they’d just lived through. Derek scrubbed a hard palm down his face, squeezing his chin before exhaling. At least they were alive. Somehow, they’d made it out of the harrowing experience with their lives.

Stiles was finally walking up to him. Derek reached out take hold of Stiles’ hand, wondering if it might be the wrong time to do so but he _desperately _needed some comforting right now. And it seemed that that was what Stiles wanted as well.The human shot him a grateful look before taking a step forward to lean against Derek’s shoulder. He tightened his grip on Stiles’ hand immediately, relaxing when he felt Stiles squeeze his hand in return. Stiles’ weight against his side felt reassuring and grounding. They were hurt but alive, Derek reminded himself. They still had a chance. There was still hope.

They remained quiet as they walked up to the cottage. Derek paused a second in front of the structure, wondering if it had only been a yesterday afternoon when he’d last been standing here kissing Stiles. And then the memory was gone when Laura called out his name. The worry in Laura’s voice pulled him away from Stiles immediately. What could have happened to make Laura sound so shaken up. Was there more bad news? Had something else gone wrong? It took exactly four large steps to get from the main door to the living room. From one doorway to the other. 

Derek stood there, hands curling around thick wood as he stared down at his mother, who was propped up against Laura. Both of them had shifted into their human forms and had procured two blankets large enough to cover themselves with. Laura’s was a rough-looking red and beige afghan. His mother was covered with a cheerful red, blue, green knitted blanket. And there was a patch of black seeping through the material near the top of her ribs. 

His world felt like it was falling apart when he saw how _deathly _pale she looked. Cora and Isaac sat next to her while Laura was gently helping their mother sit up higher.

“We need to find some wolfsbane right away,” Laura was saying in an urgent tone, “Isaac. You’ve the best nose from all of us. Sniff some out. There has to be a patch growing somewhere nearby. Find it. _Now _.”

Isaac was on his feet in an instant. As he slipped past Derek, Isaac’s hand pressing against his chest in a quick, comforting gesture before he was gone out the door. Cora shuffled into the spot Isaac had vacated, picking up her mother’s hand between both of hers. Slowly, like he was fighting his way through quicksand, Derek walked up to his family and sat down heavily across from Cora, next to his mother. His strong mother who he’d never seen defeated so.

“You’re alright,” His mom sighed raising her hand up. She smiled weakly at him when he accepted her hand and held it against his chest, “You’re all alright.”

“Isaac’ll be back soon with the wolfsbane,” Cora reassured her quickly, squeezing her mom’s hand tight. “You’ll be alright too.”

A slow blink and she was turning towards all of them, “No one else got shoot, yes?”

The siblings exchanged a look before shaking their heads. 

Derek could sense the others coming to stand in the doorway, watching them from afar. Giving the family their distance. He saw Talia notice them as well, wincing when she tried to sit up higher to see over his shoulder. “No need to hover. Come in,” she beckoned them forward, sagging back against Laura when she pulled her back into a more comfortable pose. Talia waited for the others to kneel around her before asking, “Are you all alright? No injuries? Oh.” She asked the group, frowning when she got a good look at their battered selves.

“Superficial wounds,” Lydia answered quietly, swiping a hand across the blood that had dried under her cheek, “Nothing to worry about.”

After a long moment of hesitation, Stiles dropped to his knees next to him, looking and smelling positively _miserable _when he spoke in a low voice, “Alpha Hale, ‘m so sorry. I dropped the wolfsbane that could have helped you. I -”

“You got _shot _in the arm.” Scott pointed out quietly, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Nodding, hair clinging to the sweat that had started to bead her face and neck, Talia replied, “Scott’s right. It could have happened to anyone.”

He could see that Stiles didn’t agree but he deferred to the alpha and his best friend. His hands began to wrung themselves over and over again in his lap. Derek eyed the fingers before giving Stiles a worried look.

As Laura smoothed their mother’s dark hair out of her face, Derek leaned over to murmur, “Are you alright?”

Stiles let out a bitter laugh that bordered on slightly hysterical. Loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Perfectly fine. My best friend nearly got executed by a bunch of assholes who think they’re better than everyone here just because they’re human. We all nearly got shot _multiple _times by some bigoted assholes. I found out my _other _best friend’s _grandfather _was responsible for murdering _my _grandfather. _And _that if it weren’t for me, _none _of this would have happened!”

“Stiles, what the hell are you talking about? What do you mean, none of this wouldn’t have happened if it weren-“

“Isn’t it obvious?” He yelled back, cutting Laura off mid-sentence, “If I’d never agreed to help them find the city then we wouldn’t be here! All these people wouldn’t have died! You mom wouldn’t be hurt this bad if it wasn’t for me and my dum-" Stiles tugged on his hair in agony before moaning, “I was so _stupid_! I shouldn’t have accepted Gerard’s help so easily! I should have listened to my dad and found out who he was before just agreeing to help him! Maybe then I could have found out that he’d-“

“You couldn’t have known Stiles.” Lydia said quietly, reaching out to touch his arm.

But Stiles ranted on, “I _never _thought grandpa’s death was something to be suspicious about. I thought it was so cool to meet a guy who’d been friends with grandpa! I thought Gerard was being nice to me when he offered to help. That he was just some… some nice old guy trying to make his friends dream come true instead of some psychopath who… who’d kill all tho-...” A fine tremor shook Stiles’ frame. For a long moment he sat there shaking, the center of everyone’s attention. He clasped his hands together in his lap before looking up at Talia with a pained look in his eyes, “I had _no _idea Gerard had this planned. I never knew. If I’d have known then I never would have helped him!”

“Of course,” She soothed Stiles immediately, “I believe you. But Stiles, if you didn’t know what they were planning then how is it your fault?”

“She’s right. You didn’t know. None of us did,” Scott said in a firm voice, “And if ignorance of _their _intentions makes you guilty, then we’re _all _guilty for signing up for this trip without looking into Gerard’s plan.”

“I didn’t know either. And they’re my _family _. I never knew about the things we’d done in the past.” Allison gently pointed out, shrugging helplessly when Stiles looked up at her, “That makes more guilty than anyone else here.”

Stiles’ eyes cleared at those words. He sat up straighter, eyes keen as he turned towards Talia, “Alpha Hale, do you know who William Argat is?”

Surprise flickered over his mother’s face before she answered, “Of course.” Her eyes flicked to Derek for a quick second, a silent question in her eyes. Derek nodded in return. “A long time ago, he was one of the men on King Briaine’s council.”

Behind him, he heard Scott whisper, “Who’s that?”

Derek turned around to answer but Stiles beat him to the punch, “He’s the guy Gerard was talking about. And in Kate’s story. You know, the king whose daughter died and he started the whole war against shifters? But that’s not important. I just wanted to ask you if you knew what... what happened with Argat after you all left.”

He watched his mother frown thoughtfully, closing her eyes at one point in obvious pain before reopening her eyes. They glowed red when she asked in a strained voice, “Only a little. We knew he was still pursuing us but we spread rumors that we had moved to Europe instead of the New World. S-some of our pack humans decided to go to Italy. Make it look authentic. Last I heard, Argat and his family were sailing for Milan. By then, we had already reached here and I stopped asking.”

Derek’s eyes wandered to the dark patch that was had spread in a large patch over the blanket. It was larger than Derek’s hand and growing. It looked bad. Why hadn’t Derek done more to protect her? And where had she been shot as a wolf? It had been somewhere near her stomach? How long did had it been since then? How quickly did the poison travel? He stared long and hard at the slowly growing block spot, dragging his eyes up to meet Laura’s equally worried gaze. Cora snuck a peek under the blanket and came back up more pale faced than before, looking utterly stricken. She caught both their eyes and minutely shook her head. Grip tightening on his mother’s hand, Derek prayed for Isaac to return soon.

Meanwhile Stiles was nodding. “I thought you wouldn’t know. These people? The people behind the attack? They’re Argents. In French it means ‘silver’ but the Old Irish word for it would be-”

“Argat,” Laura finished for him, closing her eyes in a deep scowl. “Dammit. How didn’t we make that connection?”

With a pained smile, their mother replied, “It’s been a long time since we stopped speaking our old language. And we never thought they’d come right to us.” 

She squeezed her eyes shut again, hands clenching her children’s fingers as pain wracked her body. Derek gripped her hand back just as tight, focusing on leeching her pain out. His bones _ached _at the amount of pain their mother was enduring. It was a wonder she wasn’t screaming. The poison was spreading fast. He realized this when he began to see the first black tendrils creeping their way from under the blanket. The dark lines crawled over pale skin and bone, over Talia’s bicep to curve gently around her shoulder. She had to have been shot more than once.

_Where _was Isaac with that wolfsbane?

He should have gone with him.

They _all _should have gone. 

Cora and Laura had noticed the dark veins spreading up their mothers arm. 

“What should we do?” Derek asked quietly, voice shaking because they had to prepare for the worst. His mother’s gaze slowly trailed to his, strain showing at the corner of her eyes. “After...”

“Don’t,” Laura cut him off sharply, eyes flashing as she glared at him. “She’s going to be fine! Isaac’s going to come back any minute and she’s going to be _fine_! The only _after _there’s going to be is _after _she’s okay.”

He saw Cora bite her bottom lip, and knew that she knew that Laura’s words weren’t going to hold true. There was no sense denying reality. No sense avoiding that it might be too late. That Isaac might not return in time. That they couldn’t do one single thing to stop their mother from dying. But Derek kept his mouth shut to placate Laura. He looked down at his mother, clenched her hand tight when she let out a stifled groan. Sucking the pain out wasn’t helping her anymore. 

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Scott asked in a hushed whisper, “Anything?”

A resounding silence followed his question. After a long pause, one only broken by his mother’s pained noises, Lydia asked, “Would any brews help?”

Cora shook her head. “Unless you have something specifically made to slow wolfsbane poisoning, they won’t do her any good. She needs the poison burnt out of her. That’s the only way.”

Derek felt his throat close with every passing second where his mother’s face grew more and more pale. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, sweat dripping freely down her face. The smell rising off her was horrible. It was a mix of illness, injury, pain. And at the corner lingered a darker scent that he refused to acknowledge. His mother was one of the strongest people he knew. Had _ever _known. And seeing her like this, so close to death was surreal.She was the one person had _always _protected him. Protected their family. He remembered going to her when Laura and William would tease him, hiding behind her skirts as he stuck his tongue out at his older siblings when they’d get scolded. He remembered her proud gaze when he’d been knighted. Remembered the gentle way she’d touched his face after he’d been cursed, telling him he was still her beautiful boy.

“Mom...” Derek choked out, the word grating against the back of his dry throat.

Laura scrubbed an angry hand across her eyes at his voice. It came back wet with tears. Cora was glaring down at her hand, biting her bottom lip furiously as her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. And their mother looked more peaceful that he’d ever seen her. While her smile was pained, her red eyes were soft and gentle as they moved from one child to the next. 

“It had to happen eventually,” She replied in a strained voice, sighing quietly as she stared off into space, “I would have preferred dying of old age back in Ireland but I’m happy that my children are with me at least.” 

Derek watched her eyes grow distant, their red glow starting to dull. He blinked away the growing moisture in his eyes, kissing his mother’s knuckles as her voice trailed away into faint murmurs. Inwardly he prayed, hoped, pleaded for Isaac to burst in through the door now. 

Now. 

_Now_. 

But no one came. Not even the wind. 

The room was still and cold. Talia's eyes were half open, dull with pain as they looked at a faraway point. Derek wondered what she was seeing. “I'm coming to you Jeremy.” She breathed out in Gaelic, the sound of it as melodious as ever on her tongue. Cora and Laura both let out matching pained noises at their father’s names. Their mother continued whispering. Derek felt his throat close up with every name. William, Emily, Peter’s wife, his cousins, his grandparents. A pained noise scratched the back of his throat. He hid his face behind the soft hand he was holding onto so tightly and tried not to sob in misery.

His mother’s breathing was getting worse. A thin wheezing noise kept worsening with every inhale. Her heart was pounding rapidly. And her grip on his hand was almost non-existent. Derek bit his lips trying not to think about how the fast beating of her heart was probably causing the poison to spread faster. He pressed a kiss to her hand, fighting down the urge to growl and sob at the same time when all he could smell was the pungent smell of wolfsbane, sickness and...

With one last exhale, Talia Hale closed her eyes and passed away.

Derek squeezed his eyes shut, fangs pressing hard enough into his lips to cause blood to spill into his mouth. Distantly, through the static that had begun to fill his head, taking up space where his mother’s heart beat had been, he heard Cora let out a loud sob. Laura was silent. She was barely breathing as she sat, eyes trained on her mother’s head.

Someone behind them inhaled sharply before whisper-asking, “Is she?”

None of them said a word. Derek felt a hand touch his back, large and warm. Stiles? He could look up and check but then he’d be forced to pull away from his mother’s hand. The same hand that used to ruffle his hair, stroke his cheek, or pat his back. The same stern hand that used to pull his ear whenever he’d act like ‘a stubborn, willful child’. 

“Derek.” Stiles said from far away. The rest of his words were gibberish. They were dull and heavy, loaded with sympathy but Derek couldn’t recognize the words. He felt like he’d stuck his head under water. Swallowing harshly, Derek sniffed loudly before looking up. Stiles’ face was pale and filled with sympathy. He saw Stiles’ mouth move, shaping words. But still they didn’t make any sense. 

Thankfully Stiles seemed to catch on. His hand slowly reached out to curl around his own, warming Derek up as he tried to loosen Derek’s grip. Derek opened his mouth to tell Stiles to stop, he couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to.

Which was when Isaac ran into the room, crashing into the doorway with a hard thud that made everyone jump. “I found some!” He panted, holding up a fistful of crumpled purple flowers. “We just need a...”

Derek saw the realization hit Isaac. It was like a physical blow; Isaac staggered back. The flowers fluttered to the ground, forgotten. His jaw dropped, eyes filling with disbelief before he stumbled forward where they were crowded around the alpha’s body. Isaac’s body shook as he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hand, before whispering, “I’m sorry. I should have been faster. I shou-”

“You did your best,” Laura cut him off, gentle but firm. When she looked at Isaac, her eyes glowed alpha red at him, “It couldn’t be helped. It was just… bad luck.”

Pride and sorrow slammed into him at the sight of her eyes. They’d always known Laura would be the next alpha. It was something she had wanted for so long. But for her to have received the position under this situation was beyond painful. It was _wrong_. She was supposed to have accepted the title in a few years. In only _a few more years_. They could have had a week of celebrations. Laura would have excitedly talked off everyone’s ears about the dress she would wear at the ceremony. Their mother would have…

When Laura’s eyes landed on him, Derek felt himself choke on the lump in his throat and looked down. The urge to weep rose in him. His mother looked so peaceful. Like she was having the best sleep of her life. Laura’s fingers were running through their mother’s dark hair, gently tugging any tangles out of the thick hair. Cora had turned her face into Isaac’s shoulder, body shaking as she tried not to give voice to the sobs that kept rocking her body. Isaac’s arm was around her shoulder, holding her next to him as he stared blankly at Talia. 

Derek wasn’t sure how long they sat there on the floor, circling their mother’s dead body and mourning her passing. He only knew it had been long enough for his knees to start aching and eventually stop. And the pins and needles had started. And stopped. Derek couldn’t feel his feet. But he didn’t give pay it much mind. How was it important that he couldn’t feel his feet when he couldn’t feel his heart either? There was a hollow feeling growing inside his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Derek felt like a hand had cracked his ribs open and was scooped his insides out.

Hours, years, eons later, he heard Scott ask, “What now?”

“We need to bury her,” Laura’s replied lowly. “We need more wolfsbane and rope. And a place to bury her. Isaac,” the werewolf jumped, startled out of his thoughts at Laura’s voice, “Where did you find the wolfsbane.”

“There’s a patch about…fifteen minutes away. It’s in the middle of a clearing. Next to a lake. She might... I think she’d have liked it. There’s lots of old trees there. We could…”

Nodding, Laura exhaled slowly before swallowing hard. 

“Okay.” She sniffled once, hand wiping away the tears that had finally fallen before nodding to herself, “Okay. We’re going to need clothes too. Can we borrow some?” She looked up at Allison and Lydia.

The girls nodded, slowly getting up to their feet. After she’d gently laid her mother’s upper body down, Laura moved to stand up. She took her time; her body and heart were struggling under the weight of what they’d gone through and the responsibility that had fallen on her. Clutching the afghan around her body, Laura allowed Allison and Lydia to guide her up the stairs. Cora was still pressed against Isaac’s side, watching. He could tell she wanted to follow Laura but Derek assumed the desire to be comforted outweighed her desire to keep watch on Laura. A small flicker of something warm flashed through him when he realized that Cora trusted these people as well.

“Hey,” a voice quietly called his attention. Derek turned to look at Stiles, whose worried eyes flicked over his face before asking, “Are you okay?” As soon as he’d finished the question, Stiles was frowning. “Stupid question. Forget I asked that. Of course you’re not okay. Do you want to clean up and change? It might help you feel better.”

Derek stared down at himself, took in the dirty, ripped clothing and the blood and soot covering him before nodding. He was grateful for the way Stiles took his hand and helped him. It took Derek several minutes before getting his sea legs back, and Stiles stuck by his side the whole time. He patiently waited for Derek to regain some feeling in his legs again before guiding him out of the room. But as they crossed the doorway, Derek turned to give his mother’s body one last look. 

Cora had pulled away from Isaac and was wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Isaac was leaning forward, pulling the blanket over Talia’s face. The finality of that move made Derek lurch forward. He must have made some kind of noise because Stiles turned to look at him, brow knit in worry. But Stiles didn’t say anything. He just tightened his grip and continued to walk. 

Derek found himself being led up the stairs into a small, messy bedroom, “Ignore the crap.” Stiles told him, kicking a few books out of the way, “I kinda let my bag explode all over the place. Here,” Derek blinked at the small pile of clothes Stiles plopped into his hand, “Try these shirts. They’re the biggest ones I’ve got, they _should _fit. I’ll ask Scott for some jeans. He might have a pair that’ll fit or I’ll give you my sweats. The shower’s over there. You want some help or will you be okay?”

Stiles’ eyes were clear and filled with gentle concern. For him. It made Derek take a deep breath, sharp and cool enough to penetrate the white noise that had been clogging his head. “I…” 

“It’s okay,” Stiles smiled wanly as he gave Derek’s hand a gentle squeeze, “You don’t have to answer that. I’ll go get some jeans from Scott. You get in there and get started. I’ll knock and see you how you’re doing and we’ll see, okay?”

Derek nodded, watching Stiles leave the room before walking into the bathroom. It was a smaller version of the bathroom in their manor. No tub, smaller sink and cabinet but the same in colors and materials used. Placing the shirts down on the counter, Derek moved towards the shower. He felt like a stranger in his own body when he saw his hand grab the hot water knob. Was this what disassociation felt like?

Body moving on muscle memory, Derek stripped his dirty clothes off and stepped under the shower. He barely felt the hot water against his skin. Derek pressed his palms against the cool tiles and lowered his head. He had to get a hold of himself. This was only a temporary relief from what was going on outside. _‘Stop trembling,’ _Derek sternly told himself, clenching his hands into fists. The claws sinking into his palm caused the water swirling into the drain to be stained red. 

Derek inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again. He needed…

What did he need?

A gentle knock resonated in the tiled room. “Derek? I got some pants that should fit.”

He needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off of what had happened. Stepping out of the shower spray, Derek walked over the door and pulled it open. He stared into Stiles’ startled eyes, watched them dip down to see his nudity, before flying back up. Color filled the human’s cheeks immediately.

So uuhh… pants. Here.” Stiles held a dark green pile out towards him, “Thought you might need those.”

“That’s not all I need.”

Stiles’ eyebrows flew up, “What else do yo-!” 

The question turned into a surprised yelp when Derek pulled Stiles in, pressed him back against the door, and kissed him like his life depended on it. Which was exactly how Derek felt. His hands held Stiles with desperate intentions, sliding under his shirt to touch skin. It was warm and soft. Derek shivered when he felt Stiles’ hands come to rest against his chest. And pushed him away firmly.

Blinking owlishly, Derek stared down at Stiles. Who looked flushed and delectable and confused, “Derek…” Stiles shook his head before exhaling and continuing, “You don’t want to do this. Not like this. Not right now.”

“But…” 

He wanted to fall to pieces when Stiles pulled his hands away from his body. “I’ve been where you are,” Stiles said as he held Derek’s hands loosely by the wrists, “I’ve been in that place where… where everything so dark and hope seems lost and. That’s when you can make some bad choices.”

Derek opened his mouth to argue that Stiles _wasn’t _a bad choice. He was his saving grace right now.

“I don’t mean that I’m a bad choice but that… this,” Stiles nodded between them, “Having sex right now would be the bad choice.”

Adamantly shaking his head, Derek moved to grab Stiles’ hands in return, “It wouldn’t! It’s what I need right now. I just… need to get out of my head.”

With a sad look, Stiles answered, “There’s no getting out of your head for this Derek. You can’t make the hurt go away. You can only… ride it out. It’ll take so much time and it’ll _still _never stop hurting.”

The gentle understanding in Stiles’ voice broke the cold that had taken over Derek’s body. His arms went around Stiles’ body as he fell against him, face buried against Stiles’ shoulder. “Whoa! Easy there big guy. I gotcha,” Stiles said in Derek’s ear, one hand running up and down his back while the other remained between his shaking shoulder blades, “I gotcha.”

Tears ran down his face, smearing when he rubbed his cheek against Stiles’ neck. The human didn’t make a single noise of complaint as Derek pressed him back against the door. When Derek clung to him, Stiles only clung back and whispered soothingly back at him. His body shook with the force of his restrained sobs. Derek struggled to breath and not _break down _because his mother was gone. She had died and there wasn’t anything he could do but accept it. His claws dug into Stiles’ back as he finally let out the howl that he’d been holding back for so long. A split second later he heard three more voices chime in, each of them ringing with misery and grief that went beyond words.

Howl tapering off, Derek felt drained. He left Stiles take all of his weight. “Feel better now?” He asked sympathetically.

Derek nodded, letting Stiles pull away and hold his face in his hands. Worried brown eyes peered up at him before he asked, “Do you still want too…?” He shook his head. After a beat, Stiles asked, “Do you want to let me go now or do you still want to be hugged?”

“I’d-“ Derek cleared his throat but his voice still sounded rough when he said, “I’d still like you to be here.”

Some of the redness from before returned to Stiles’ face, “Uh. Then I guess we better get you under the shower before all the hot water goes away. Come on.”

"You bandages," Derek weakly tried to argue.

"I've got to clean this wound properly anyways." Stiles led him under the shower, standing just out of the way as Derek turned his face up towards the hot water. He stood there, swaying lightly until he heard a bottle pop open. Derek swiped a hand over his face to look over at Stiles. He was sticking the white bottle back in its place between the wall and the water knobs, quickly lathering his hands before saying, “Duck your head down.”

Obediently, Derek closed his eyes and lowered his head. And raised it back it when Stiles let out a sharp and pained hiss. He was clutching the arm that he’d been shot. 

“Sorry,” Stiles grit out, “Kind of forgot I got shot till I tried to raise my arm up.”

“It’s alright,” Derek pulled Stiles’ hands under the water to wash the suds away. 

But Stiles quickly pulled his good hand back, “I can still do this one hand! Just… Hang on.” 

He poured some more of the shampoo in his hand, lathered it up before gesturing for Derek to lower his head again. Obediently, Derek did so and kept his eye on the strip of cloth wrapped around Stiles’ bicep. The material was red but there was a large patch that appeared darker than the rest. Derek tried to sniff to check if Stiles was still bleeding but with the shampoo and steam, it wasn’t possible.

Derek gave up to the relaxing feeling of Stiles’ hand massaging his scalp. With every scratch of Stiles’ fingernails against his skin, Derek felt his body finally start to relax. He was ready to fall asleep on his feet when Stiles quietly murmured, “All done. Keep your eyes closed, okay?”

The hand on his face directed Derek to turn towards the hot water. Stiles’ fingers scrubbed the suds out with a few sweeps before sliding a hand down Derek’s face. A deep sense of gratitude overwhelmed him in that moment. 

And when he opened his eyes to look at Stiles, Derek let that feeling shine through, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Stiles’ lips turned up at the corners into a pale imitation of a smile.

“I do,” Derek insisted, pulling the other man closer until he was half under the spray of water.

With a jump and a laugh, Stiles wiped a hand over his face. The patch of clean skin seemed paler than usual thanks to all the dirt and soot Stiles had on, “Should have warned me before you did that.”

Instead of answering, Derek tugged on Stiles’ shirt gently, “Take that off. I want… I’d like to…”

He held up the shampoo bottle to complete his sentence when Stiles quirked an eyebrow up.

Hands tangling into his shirt, Stiles began to raise his arms without a thought and just as quickly brought them back with a hissed curse, “Damn arm!” 

Derek wedged the bottle back in its place before curling his hands into Stiles’ shirt, “Might be easier if I just… cut it off.”

Eyeing Derek’s claws, Stiles gave his shirt a woeful look before glancing at his arm. Sighing, he held his arms out by his sides, “Just make it quick.”

Using one hand to hold the material taut, Derek ran two claws against the seam. He focused on his hands and not the skin being revealed. Following the line up, up, up, under the left shoulder and done. All that was left after that was to help Stiles pull his right arm out, ball the wet shirt up, and throw into his own pile of dirty clothes. Stiles’ fingers were toying with his belt, glancing up at Derek as he asked, “Do you want me too keep this on or off?”

“Whatever you want,” Derek answered, grabbing the bottle to latter his hands up.

He’d worked up a good foam by the time Stiles had hopped out of the wet denim, “How I keep winding up in wet jeans is beyond me,” He grumbled, coming to stand in front of Derek with his eyes closed. He’d taken care however, to keep his injured arm out of the direct stream of water. For a quick selfish moment, he let his gaze rake over Stiles' lean figure. The barest spark of heat sizzled in Derek's chest at the sight of Stiles' bare body but he didn't want to act on it. But there was still that selfish desire to _know _what Stiles looked like naked.

Derek began massaging the shampoo into Stiles' hair, watching Stiles' lashes flutter shut against pink cheeks. The water that sluiced down Stiles’ back and into the drain was dark thanks to the soot that was washing off. Even the shampoo foam had turned dark. Stiles let out a low groan, “That feels nice. Can you get the spot at the back? A little higher. Thaaaat’s it.”

The water was starting to grow cold so Derek quickly made Stiles stand under the stream before turning around to grab the towel. He held the thin terrycloth in hand, waiting for Stiles to turn the shower off before offering him the towel. But Stiles only shook his head with a smile, “You first.” He said, and threw the towel over Derek’s head. Stiles used his good hand to give Derek a quick rub down across his shoulders and chest. Derek’s skin felt tingly and warm by the end. He felt alive again.

“All done,” Stiles declared, using a corner of the towel to pat away the few drops of moisture that had tumbled down Derek’s hair and onto his cheek, “I’ll go get changed outside if that’s okay.”

Derek nodded. Throwing the towel around his hips, Stiles turned to face the door. Derek had already turned towards the clothes on the counter when Stiles turned the handle. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked.

Shirt in hand, he turned to look at Stiles. Standing in the door way with a worried look on his face, Stiles asked, “Are you feeling … better now?”

Derek thought about it and nodded, “I am. It still… But I feel better. Here instead of somewhere else.”

With a small smile, Stiles walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Let alone, Derek turned his attention to the clothes he’d been given. There was his own underwear that he slipped on first. And then the shirts that he’d gotten. There were a few long-sleeved shirts that he could tell right off the bat wouldn’t fit him. But there was one short sleeved blue t-shirt that just might. As it turned out, it was _just _barely a fit. The material clung to him like a second skin, making Derek twist and stretch uncomfortably. The soft pants however, comparatively a looser fit than his jeans but were comfortable. Together with the tight shirt, it made for an _interesting _combination. By which he meant he felt really damned uncomfortable.

_‘Maybe I’ll get used to it after a while,’ _Derek thought to himself as he gathered all the dirty clothes together into a sopping heap in the sink. 

He’d been throwing Stiles’ shirt into when someone knocked on the door. “Derek?” Scott called out, “Are you done? Laura’s saying we need to get going.”

Throwing the shirt away, Derek walked towards the door and opened it. Scott jumped back before taking in what the other werewolf was wearing. His face split into a happy smile, “Oh! Those fit! I was kinda worried they wouldn’t. Are you comfortable?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a shirt that would fit me?”

Scott shook his head apologetically, “Sorry dude. You’re gonna have to make do. Ready to go?”

Nodding, Derek followed Scott downstairs to the foyer. They were the last people to join the group; everyone else had gathered around the front door, even Stiles. And it looked like everyone had cleaned up and changed their clothes too. Laura was standing in the front, holding a shrouded body in her arms. Her hair was wet, signalling that she’d taken a shower as well. She was a short dress and tights, but no shoes. Cora and Isaac stood behind her, holding a long length of rope in their hands. Both of them were still wearing their own jeans but their shirts smelled of the humans -Lydia and Scott respectively. 

Allison looked up at the sound of their footsteps, holding several shovels in hand. She smiled faintly at Scott as he came to stand beside her, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. The others had turned around to watch them as well, their low murmurs trailing off as Derek walked up to Laura. He glanced at the body Laura was holding in his arms and swallowed harshly. A hand pressed against his back, and another fell on his shoulder. Cora and Isaac, he realized when he saw them come to stand next to him.

“Let’s go,” Laura said in a low voice, stepping out the house, “Isaac, lead the way.”

Hefting a large coil of dark rope through his arm and onto his shoulder, Isaac stepped ahead of Laura and went off the path immediately. He led them around the cabin and towards the small forest in the distance. Everyone followed silently, footsteps muted by the thick grass under their feet. Every so often, Derek would find his eyes sliding away towards the city. The sky was tinted a deep orange. If he strained himself, he could hear the echoes of people screaming. Every time Derek would force himself to listen to the sharp crunch of boot pressing down into hard soil. 

Once they hit the treeline, Isaac told them to make a line and stick close, “It’s dark and we don’t want anyone getting close tonight.”

After thirty or so minutes of trudging through the forest in a fairly straight line, Cora asked, “How much further is it?”

“Just a little bit more. You can’t miss it. You’ll start smelling the wolfsbane when we get close.”

Cora and Scott immediately turned their noses up to sniff. Beside him, Derek saw Stiles take a few sniffs as well before shaking his head. There was barely any moonlight to guide their way, causing the humans to stumble every so often with a curse. Lydia tipped into Allison’s back and kicked the root stump before walking over it with a heavy step. 

Scott took another sniff and broke the silence, “What’s that smell?” 

“We’re almost there,” Isaac said, taking larger steps towards the line of trees straight in front of them. 

They’d only taken a few more steps forward that the view began to clear. Through the trees, Derek could see a body of water in front of them. Patches of silver moonlight glimmered on its surface, shining as brilliantly as enchanted spider silk. Isaac turned sideways to slip through the close growing trees before turning around to help Laura. But she clutched their mother’s body tighter against her chest before walking to the side to find another way to get through. Cora followed after her but the humans slipped through the same spot as Isaac, and stumbled into a clearing that was half green and half wolfsbane purple. The sheer abundance with which the flowers were growing made the entire clearing smell lovely and sickly sweet. Derek sneezed and cleared his throat, making a face when he felt another sneeze coming along.

A branch snapped from the side. They all turned to see Laura walk into the clearing several feet away from where they’d come in. Derek saw her eyes take in the space before landing on them. She walked over to them briskly, tone firm, “Let’s get to work. Cora, Isaac. Let’s find a good spot to bury her. You’ll help me dig the grave. Derek. You know what to do with the rope. There’s more than enough wolfsbane here. The rest of you, please help Derek.”

With a nod, Allison handed the shovels to Cora before turning towards Derek, who immediately pointed at the small field of purple flowers, “Gather as many of the flowers as you can. Make sure that you pluck them with plenty of stem.”

“Wait!” Lydia’s sharp voice made them all stop. She was digging through her bag frantically, muttering under her breath before she triumphantly pulled a small box out, “Gloves. Wolfsbane is poisonous to humans too. Better glove up before we start picking the flowers.”

While Allison and Lydia snapped a pair of gloves on, Stiles moved to stand by his side. He waited for the girls to go out of earshot before asking, “What _are _you doing to do with the rope?” 

Derek nodded to Isaac as he handed the coil of rope over, jogging over to where Laura was doing a circle of the clearing, Cora at her heels. “We’re going to weave wolfsbane into it” Derek explained quietly, cutting the small ties holding the coil in shape before he began measuring out the rope they were going to need, “It’s tradition to bind the dead in wolfsbane rope. It allows the wolf to come out. So when you move on, you’re...”

His hands paused, clenching around the rope as he grief threatened to overcome him once more. Derek was grateful that Stiles simply nodded in understanding and didn’t press him to finish his sentence, “It’s okay,” He replied quietly, “I get it you know. It’s hard losing a parent. I... I lost my mom when I was a kid. She got sick so it wasn’t like we didn’t know it was coming. But it was still a shock when she died.”

Brown eyes ringed with stress peered at him. The pained understanding Derek saw there had his hand reaching out for Stiles. So that’s what Stiles had meant when he’d said that he understood Derek’s pain. He linked their fingers together and squeezed, offering his thanks for everything. They stood there for a moment before Derek nodded at the group, “We’d better go and help them.” 

Stiles’ glanced at the group, bit the inside of his lip before nodding. Their hands slipped apart within a few steps, Stiles moving to kneel next to Allison, asking her if she had the gloves box with her, while Derek moved towards Lydia, who was examining each stem carefully. “Are these long enough?” She asked, holding a flower out for Derek’s examination.

He held the flower delicately from the bottom, measured it with his eyes and nodded. Sitting down next to the red head, he unfurled the rope and began to weave the flowers against the twined thread. He did the first ten or two slowly, letting Lydia observe him before asking her if she’d like to help. Lydia immediately picked a stem up and began to clumsily knot it into the rope. It took several tries but eventually she got the hang of it. Their fingers worked slowly but methodically, weaving more and more flowers into the rope.

“Any particular reason why you’re not wearing the gloves and letting the poison soak into your skin?” She asked after a while.

Derek ignored the tingling sensation that was creeping up his forearms, “Because it’s supposed to hurt when you do this.”

“Is this a part of your burial customs?” Lydia asked quietly, eyes trained on her hands. She scowled as the stem broke and the small flowers fluttered to the group before looking up at Derek, “The rope I mean. Not the pain.”

Nodding, Derek offered her a flower with a longer stem, “It’ll make her shift into her wolf form. That’s how she’ll enter the afterlife. In her true form.”

Lydia’s hand paused. Glimmering eyes looked up at him, filled with a complicated emotion Derek couldn’t pinpoint. She took a breath before saying, “That’s lovely.”

With a tiny shrug, he answered, “I never thought about it. It just… made sense. To go off being your truest self.”

“That’s why it’s lovely.” Lydia curled the rope they were done working on into a loose coil by the side before offering a new section to Derek. 

Silence stretched between them again, broken this time by the sound of shovels digging into the firm ground. He looked up to see Laura carefully putting their mother’s body on the ground before picking up a shovel. She’d picked a spot on the green side of the clearing, underneath a young tree with pale bark. It was on slightly higher ground than the rest of the clearing. Their mother would have loved it. Swallowing, Derek turned his eyes down again. His ears focused on the constant sound of shovels digging into the ground, pulling dirty up, and depositing it out. Despite the fact that three werewolves were working together, it still took a lot of effort to break through the hard earth.

“That’s more than enough, don’t you think?” Lydia’s voice brought him back.

Derek glanced at her and then the _huge _pile of flowers that Allison and Stiles had picked. “_More _than,” He echoed.

The pair immediately wiped their hands against their clothes before shifting to sit with them. “Can we help?” Stiles asked, glancing at his hands before doing a double take, “Derek! Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”

As Stiles grabbed his red, itchy hands, Lydia firmly answered, “It’s part of what they do. Leave it be.” Stiles looked unconvinced, rubbing Derek’s hand with his gloved ones, “You know you’re only going to make it worse because you’ve got the aconitum on your gloves, right?”

Stiles immediately let go of Derek’s hands and began to yank his gloves off with a few dozen curses. His lips twitched up in unbidden amusement; Derek ducked his head as he went back wreathing the purple flowers and green leaves together.

“How’s your headache?” Allison was asking Lydia quietly.

The red head made an annoyed face, “_Horrible_. If I thought it was bad yesterday it’s been _horrible _all of today. I woke up feeling like my head was a bell and someone kept slamming hammers against it.”

“Did you try the tonic I gave you?”

“Didn’t do anything, sorry,” Lydia shook her head, wincing at the motion before exhaling, “I feel like… like I’m stuck 40,000 feet up in the air and the pressure’s pounding against my skull. If it gets worse I feel like I’m going to scream.”

Curiously, Derek looked up at the woman. Lydia was rubbing her forehead with the back of her wrist, “How long have you had this headache?”

“Since last night. I… My family comes from a line of psychics. And some of us have the gift stronger than others. My gift lies in tarot readings but I don’t do them that often. Only when I… get a feeling. It’s hard to explain. It’s like intuition but… different. Magical. 

Anyways. Last night before I went to bed, I got that feeling. That I should get a of what the future is going to hold. And I got…” Lydia paused, glancing at Stiles before continuing, “I got Death, The Tower, and The Devil.” 

Stiles’ eyes immediately widened. He opened his mouth to speak but Lydia beat him to punch, “Yes I know. They’re the same cards I pulled out on the street. But my point was that I got that headache around that point. When I got that feeling that I needed to do a reading. And it only got worse and worse by the time night fell. It… I… kept getting this feeling…”

“What kind of feeling?” Allison asked in a quiet whisper. 

Lydia hesitated, fingers twisting a purple flower in between her fingers before exhaling, “The same feeling I got that day at the canyon. That… something was going to go wrong. That something horrible was going to happen.”

Ignoring the sore and tender feeling in his fingertips, Derek glanced up at Lydia and wondered.

“That’s enough,” Derek heard Laura say, and then in a louder voice, “Is the rope done Derek?”

He glanced down and realized that they’d been done for a while now. Gathering it up gently, he walked over to the open grave. Derek could hear the trio behind him get up to their feet. They remained a respectable distance back as Derek handed Isaac the rope and together they wrapped it around the cold body. The air felt cold and still was they moved. The smell of wolfsbane seemed to have crawled up his nose and taken residence there, itching and irritating him with every breath he took; it felt like fire ants were crawling up his nose. By the time they were done, the tingling-sensation of the poison had migrated all the way past his elbow. 

“Laura,” he called quietly, “You take her feet. I’ll take her shoulders.” 

She was immediately standing at the other end of the shroud, waiting for his signal before they lifted the body up together and walked the two steps over to lower their mother into her final resting place. The tingling feeling that had migrated up his biceps began to turn into a numbness as he climbed back and began to shovel dirt into the grave. Derek made his eyes move from dirt pile to grave without thinking anymore of that. Just dig into the dirt, shove in, lift, pour. Repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Derek stopped before the grave was completely filled, glancing up at Laura as he asked, “Are we making the spiral?”

“Absolutely,” A male voice called firmly from the shadows.

They all jumped into action in a flash. Knives shone in Allison’s hands as she whipped them out of her coat. Lydia and Stiles had pulled a bottle each out of their pockets. And all the werewolves had their fangs and claws directed at Peter Hale as he melted out of the shadows. Feeling utterly poleaxed, Derek stared at his uncle as he walked up to them like he’d run into them on an evening walk rather than interrupted a somber funeral. Where the hell had he showed up from? Had he followed them? For how long? Since when? Where the hell had he been for so long?

“Peter?” Laura exclaimed, “Where the hell have you been? We’ve been worried-“

She cut herself off when she saw that Peter was not alone. Derek heard Allison’s grip on her knives tighten when she saw more people stepping forward, all of them werewolves if the flash of their colored eyes at the sight of so many humans was anything to go by. At the very front, was an white man with sharp features and sharper eyes.

Laura sucked in a sharp breath. “Deucalion?” 

“Laura," the alpha greeted, British accent heavy in his voice, holding his hands out for her. Laura stepped forward to accept them immediately, “We came as soon as Peter told us what was happening.”

While Laura’s surprised eyes flew to Peter, Derek’s eyes swept over the small group that had walked into the clearing. Relief swelled in him at the sight of the alpha pack returning home in full force. He heard Isaac let out a quiet, “Thank fuck,” as well.

The humans were slow to relax, staying behind them as Deucalion’s gaze passed over them before landing on Derek, “It’s good to see you Derek.”

Derek nodded, feeling Stiles shift to stand behind him, “It’s good to see you too. You came back right in time.”

“You can thank Peter for that.”

“About that…how _did _Peter find you?” Laura asked in confusion “I thought you all were going to go to another town before coming back? We weren’t expecting you back ‘till next week at least.”

Deucalion pointed at Peter, who stood facing the fresh grave with a pained look on his face, “Peter sent us a message through one of the mountain people’s shadow messages to get back to the city as soon as possible. He said that he suspected something was going to happen and that the city would need our help. It was pure luck we were just two days away when he got that message.”

“So you were coming back early?” Cora asked.

The other alpha nodded, towards the woman standing at the back of their small group, “Marin said she had a bad feeling and urged us to skip the other town. Peter found us right before we were about to climb up the cave and pass the barrier.” 

Understanding flashed in Laura’s eyes when she turned to her uncle, “Is that where you went? Right after Scott got attacked?”

“Yes. I knew something was wrong the minute I realized Scott had been attacked by one of his own people. At first I ran towards the city, intent on telling Talia what had happened but I ran into some soldiers. That’s when I turned the other direction. I stuck around just long enough to see what they were planning to do before grabbing the first horse I could find and turning for the barrier.”

But a part of Peter’s logic didn’t make sense to Derek, “Why would you go try to find them instead of come help the rest of us?”

“My survival instinct,” Peter replied with a casual shrug. “I took a good look at our opponents, saw how they were armed, and made a calculated choice - we were going to need a lot more powerful people on our side. So I went to see if Deucalion and his people were nearby. And warned the other families along the way. I expect they’re gathering at the road right now, ready to flood the city.”

A small part of Derek couldn’t bring himself to believe Peter’s tale. Sure Peter was a good second hand for his mother, devious and cunning and good at working his mechanisms from the shadows. But he was also a bit of a coward. Derek wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the truth was Peter had simply tucked tail and run away from the more powerful humans. On the other hand. Deucalion had said that Peter had reached out to them days ago and told them to return to the city immediately. So maybe there was _some _shred of truth to Peter’s story? And was it _really _important to figure out how much of Peter’s story was truth and how much was lies when the end result had been the alpha pack coming home?

Laura exhaled and shook her head, “That was a good call. What made you do it?”

“Something about that blonde,” Peter answered contemplatively, eyes growing distance, “She reminded me too much of a snake in the grass trying to play nice. And I followed one of her lackeys as soon as I’d gotten back. I could smell the blonde’s scent on him a mile away,” Peter made a disgusted face like he couldn’t believe either persons taste, “Creepy guy with a camera. He was making a map of the city, marking down all the large buildings and homes. Went straight back to the woman and gave him all the intel he had. Correct me if I’m wrong but that doesn’t strike me as normal behavior.”

Stiles let out a weird noise that had most of their group turn around to face him. He was pointed the large end of the shovel at his friends with a triumphant look on his face, “I told you so! I _told _you so! I _told _you Matt was a creepy creep we couldn’t trust!”

Allison shook her head while Scott and Lydia rolled their eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Your gut was right again. Good for you.”

“That should teach you never to doubt my gut,” Stiles declared, thumping the shovel handle against the ground with a grin, “Can’t wait to tell Danny I was right again.”

“Don’t say it like that or else he’s gonna punch you,” Allison suggested.

They all paused when they noted that they’d unwittingly become the center of all the werewolves attention. 

Deucalion tilted his head towards Laura, rims flashing, “I believe you should tell me everything that’s happened. Including who these people are.”

It was in a very quiet voice Laura explained everything that had happened – Scott’s initial injury, Stiles’ abrupt arrival, the rest of the humans being brought in, the peaceful week that had passed during which they’d met with Gerard and Kate, Derek warning them of the attack, the fight, the Argent’s, their mother. Deucalion remained quiet during the whole story but his pack members snarled and cursed at different points. Derek could see Kali and Ennis grinding their teeth when they heard of how many of their people had been injured or killed. The twins looked ready to tear someone’s throats out when Laura talked of their quick escape.

“We were just about to set the last of the rope and finish the grave,” Laura finished, pointing with her palm at the rope in question.

Deucalion nodded, “We’ll help.” 

But Laura shook her head, hand falling gently on the other man’s arm, “I appreciate the help but this is something we have to do. It’s our duty as her children.”

Deucalion pressed his hand on top of hers, squeezed it before letting go. With a pained smile, Laura turned back to the grave. 

“Uncle Peter,” She called quietly, “You should set the rope.” 

Without another word, the older man was walking away towards the last few meters of flower twined rope left and began to lay it down into a spiral centered in the middle of his sisters grave.

Derek felt Stiles’ body press into his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper in his ear, “What’s that?”

Leaning back, Derek murmured back, “It’s a sign of revenge. Vengeance.” 

“So it’s not a usual thing?” Stiles asked again, staring at Peter’s hands. Derek knew that the tingling sensation must have started in Peter’s hands. But he gave no indication that he’d noticed the aconitum beginning to poison him.

Derek clenched his own hands, feeling the last of the numbness and tingling receding. He shook his head before replying darkly, “There’s nothing usual about tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rating went up to E!

Everyone of the werewolves stepped forward to eulogize Talia. One by one, they spoke of her kindness, her strengths as a leader, the influence she'd had on the city, and how many people she'd saved. Deucalion was the last of his pack to speak, his gaze hooded as he stared down at the grave. 

“When Jenny died, I thought I'd lost her forever. But I found her again in you.” Deucalion was saying, “And just like her, you helped me see past my rage and hate and helped me come back to myself.”

Stiles had shot Derek a questioning look, to which the werewolf had gestured at his eyes. To which he’d tipped his head in confusion because what? Talia had helped Deucalion with his eyes? Had she gotten the man his sunglasses? Noticing his confusion, Derek mouthed, ‘Blind. Hunters.’ at him. Stiles couldn't help but cringe, feeling absolute sympathy for the man. But… if he was blind. Stiles checked to see if the alpha had some kind of walking stick but no. Maybe he used his advanced werewolf senses to navigate through places? Or was wearing some kind of object charmed with a proximity spell to help him?

The questions that filled his mind quietened when Derek leaned against him. Stiles immediately threw an arm around Derek’s shoulder. He knew it was an incredibly selfish thought to have but he was glad that Derek was relying on him like this. It allowed Stiles to focus on him and not think about the mess that was going on inside his own head. So long as he had Derek to focus on or the upcoming battle, Stiles was sure he was going to make it. They all would.

When Deucalion finished, dropping a handful of soft, wet dirt onto the fresh grave, Stiles expected the group to disband. But no one moved. Silence hung over them for a long moment. Then Scott quietly cleared his throat, “Would it be okay if I said something too?” He asked Laura.

When she nodded, Scott took a couple of steps forward to stand next to Talia’s grace, “I didn’t know you. I only met you a couple of times but you saved my life. You saved all our lives. And we can’t thank you enough for that. _ I _ can’t thank you enough for that.” Scott’s voice, that had shook with gratitude seconds ago, turned hard as he said, “And I _ promise _you. We’ll get your city back. We’re going to set things right.”

There was power in Scott’s words. A belief that filled Stiles with sudden hope. That they could do this. They’d find some way and return the city to the way it was before the attack. Laura cleared her throat and asked Deucalion and his pack to walk with her. 

As soon as Laura and the others were out of earshot, Stiles pulled Derek down to the ground and said, “So, I’ve got some questions.”

“When do you not?” Derek sighed, a weak smile gracing his lips as he gave Stiles’ hand a quick squeeze.

Isaac snorted quietly as he sat down as well, “Of course you do.” Cora looked at them before looking quizzically at Stiles. Isaac caught the look and snorted again. “You’ll see.”

“I’m not _ that _ bad,” Stiles argued for the hell of it, wanting to lighten the mood further because they needed that. And for the record? He knew exactly how bad he tended to get on a question bender. He _ was _ aware of his bad points, thank you very much.

Allison chuckled quietly, “Sorry to burst your bubble but you kinda are.” Stiles huffed angrily and stuck his nose up in the air, relaxing when Allison continued, “But we_ would _ like to ask a few questions, if that’s okay?”

He shuffled closer to Derek, best pleading face on when he asked, “Please?” Warm pride filled him at the amused huff Derek let out before waving a hand in their direction. “Awesome! Who wants to go first?”

Lydia immediately asked, “Who _ are _these people that just showed up?” 

“Alpha pack,” Cora answered, planting a hand on either side of her body, “They’re a bunch of alpha’s who oversee all the supply runs. They take a bunch of us out past the barrier and make sure those people get to where they’re supposed too and get a lot of supplies we need. Plus, they collect information and check in with some of our people on the outside. They also sometimes come back with new people who they think would be good additions to a pack or just the city in general.” 

“How do they recruit people?” Allison asked.

Isaac shrugged, “They’ve got their own ways. Their own tests. Every one they bring back gets pretty thoroughly vetted by each of the alphas before being given a choice to come here.”

“Uuuh. What happens if they don’t want to come here?” Scott asked with a worried look, “They don’t… killed them? Do they?”

The werewolves broke into chuckles as once. “No,” Isaac reassured Scott quickly, “They just take away their memories of every having met them. So memory of them, no memory of the city.”

Lydia sat up straighter, “You can do that?”

“Some of us. It takes a lot of practice and if you do it wrong… It’s not pretty.” Cora rubbed the back of her neck with a grimace, “Emissaries don’t go around teaching it to any shifter that comes asking to learn it. They only teach the alphas. But _ theoretically _, even a beta can do that.”

Stiles let out an awed exhale, “What else can you do? I mean, if you can manipulate memories like that. Can you make new memories up too?”

Snorting loudly, Cora shook her head, “No. But we can share memories. Or. Well. You can read memories? I’m not too sure which it was….”

Stiles stroked his lip and contemplated this new information. Would Deaton be willing to share more information about this? It sounded fascinating.

“I’ve been wondering something,” Scott began, “about the barrier. From what Stiles told me, no one with bad intentions can pass through right? That they won’t even be able to _ see _the entrance, much less walk through it. So how Gerard and Kate and the others came through?”

The trio of werewolves exchanged a blank look before looking back at Scott and shrugging heavily, “No clue to be honest.”

Lydia pointed at Scott, “I might have a theory. Simply put, Talia held the door open for them after turning off the alarm system. Because she granted blanket permission, the barrier just let Gerard and everyone walk on in. Magic _ is _ alive and sentient to an extent that it can exert its own will from time to time _ but _ i t’s still dependent on other people to control it. So while it read Stiles’ intentions and saw nothing bad there, the barrier couldn’t do anything _ but _obey when Talia said it was okay for everyone to come in.”

“Magic is _ alive _?” Derek asked.

Stiles laughed, “The older magic is, the more sentience it gains. It makes sense when you think about it. I’ll tell you about it later.” 

“I’ve got a potentially awkward question,” Allison’s face was pulled into an apologetic look as she gazed at Derek, “What was that look you gave your uncle when he was explaining where he’d gone. You didn’t look like you believed him.”

Where his lips turned up at one corner in a mocking smile, Cora rolled her eyes as hard as she could, “Let’s just say, Peter’s not the most reliable person in the world.” 

“He’s _ not _ the more reliable person in the world.” Isaac corrected immediately with a scowl, “He always tries to make himself look like he’s a really nice guy but actually he’s super sneaky and never likes getting his hands dirty.”

Derek frowned at the pair, “Guys,” He chided them, “He’s still our uncle.”

But she held her ground, gesturing around them, “Do you see him anywhere? He’s gone back to lurking in the shadows because _ that’s _ what he does. He’s a sneaky little son of a bitch who you shouldn’t listen to because he’s always thinking up some way to stab you in the back”

"And when he's not doing that," Isaac added, "He's an annoying asshole who thinks it’s funny to push everyone’s buttons.” 

Cora grunted, ripped up a handful of grass and scowled at it as she watched the blades flutter down. But she didn’t argue back. For his part, Stiles felt more confused than ever before. He pointed between Derek and Cora, “Wait so... should we trust him or not? And should I keep holding on to my desire to hit him in the head with a shovel? Because I _ really _want to get back at him for sneaking up on me the way he did.” 

The silent look the trio exchanged made Stiles snort, “That’s a vote of confidence. I’m gonna keep this shovel with me then. Or maybe I should sneak up on him and see how _ he _likes.”

Cora let out an amused bark of laughter, “I’d pay good money to see you try that.”

“It’s a difficult question,” Derek acquiesced, scratching the back of his neck, “About trusting him or not. After he lost his family, Peter became... unstable. Losing his wife and children was... He took it very hard. She’d been pregnant at the time. Peter took it very hard.” 

Isaac picked up right after, “He lost control for a while after that. I remember when it happened. We’d only been on the run for a couple of hours. We were waiting at the edge of this town waiting for Peter’s family to show up but they never did. Instead there was this rider… Peter… When he found out what had happened… He just...

"We had to put him to sleep for the rest of the journey. He kept wolfing out, trying to break free. Hell. Even after we _ got _here we had to keep him locked up,” Derek sighed, long and pained, “It took so many years for him to come back. And were just so relieved to have him back after losing so many people from our family that we didn’t realize…”

Derek's thousand yard gaze made pangs of sympathy twinge in Stiles' chest. He couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of agony Peter and the rest of the Hales had gone through. He held his breath and stared at Derek, waiting for him to come out of his memories. Derek's voice was low and far-away when he continued, “A few months after he came back, Peter asked my mother if he could go out on supply runs with the alpha pack. My mother didn’t think anything of it. I think she might have even thought that the time out might do him good. Help him grieve and move on. He was gone for months at a time in the start. We worried but there wasn’t much we could do.”

“Turned out Peter’d been hunting down people who’d been hunting us,” Cora interrupted in a hard voice. Stiles started at her tone, watching her stare at her white knuckled fists, “He went looking for all the people responsible and killed them. He even helped kill the people who killed their,” she gestured with her eyes towards the alpha pack, “packs.” 

“They had their own packs?” Scott asked curiously, “They’re not their own pack? I mean... You said…”

“They used to,” Derek answered, “When we were moving here, majority of the families opted to settle here behind the barrier. But there were a few packs who wanted to stay on the outside. They thought they’d be safe and out of harm’s way given that we’d moved to a new continent and changed our names. But...”

Breath catching in her throat, Allison asked, “But they were found out, weren’t they?” When Derek nodded, she asked again, “But how? After all the trouble you’d gone through…”

Shrugging heavily, Derek answered, “We don’t know. We just know that one by one, several established packs on the outside were taken out. Not at the same time but...Kali, the woman with the black claws? Her emissary turned on her. She tried to suck her pack’s magic dry. The tall, bald guy, Ennis; his pack was hunted down. Same with the twins.”

“Some people guessed that the covens sent spies into packs. Like deep undercover agents, only their objective was to become the pack emissary and then…” Isaac let his words trail off meaningfully.

Glancing at the group Laura was shaking her head at, Stiles noted that the twins weren’t there. He wondered where they’d wandered off to. The main guy was still there however, listening to whatever Laura was saying.

“And the Duke guy?” Stiles asked.

Derek’s eyes met his briefly before moving to linger on the alpha in question, “Hunters found them too. Deucalion had been on his way back from the city when the hunters attacked. They’d trapped all the people inside a building and set it on fire. He’s been on the hunt for that family of hunters since that day.”

That particular choice of word, family, drew Stiles’ attention, “What made him think it was a family?” 

“Deucalion walked right into their trap. They’d known he was going to come back sooner or later so… They caught him. Tortured him. I’m sure if they’d had the curse they would have used it on him. They tried to get him to give away the position of the city. Its luck they never knew how close my mother and Deucalion were. Or else I’m not sure they would have let him life. He still lost one eye though,” Derek tapped his right eye. “It’s why he wears the sunglasses. Hides the burn marks.”

The injustice of it made Stiles’ insides twist in anger. Bitterness coated his tongue when he thought of all that Derek's people had to endure, how much they'd had to sacrifice. Grief was written on every inch of this valley. The more he thought about it the more irate he felt. Something needed to be done, “We need to stop Gerard and the others.” He pointed out, looking around at the group. His eyes gaze lingered on Allison’s stricken look, “I’m sorry Allison but what your family is doing is... it’s just _ wrong. _”

Her eyes lowered in shame but she nodded, “I know.” But when she looked up, her face was a study in determination, jaw set, “I know we need to stop them but I want to try talking to Kate one more time before we try anything more drastic. I’m not sure I can get to Gerard but… Kate loves me. Maybe I can get her to listen if I just get her away from Gerard...” She shrugged helplessly.

The memory of Gerard forcing Talia to give him the bite came back to him, along with the memory of the hateful look in Kate’s eyes when she’d forced the barrel of her gun into Talia’s open wound. He bit his tongue, not wanting to point out that there was a fat chance of Kate listening. If Stiles knew anything it was this: Kate believed in her ‘cause’ just as much, if not more, than her own father. He wasn’t sure if Allison’s love would be enough to make Kate change sides. 

Feeling like a cynic for not believing the power of familial love, Stiles changed subjects by bringing up something that had been puzzling him for a while now, “Any theories as to why someone who is so anti-werewolf as Gerard would _ make _ Talia bite him? And what are the chances that the bite won’t take?”

“He’s sick,” Laura’s voice answered.

They all turned to watch her walk up to them, followed by the alpha pack. Looked like alpha time was over.

“Sick?” Allison asked in confusion, “He’s never said anything about that. Neither has Kate. And he hasn’t done anything that would make anyone think that he’s sick.”

With a tiny smirk, Laura tapped the side of her nose, “You can’t fool a werewolf’s sniffer. He smelled of sickness from the start. And it was a _ very _ strong smell. I thought you knew and didn’t say anything. But knowing what we know, my best guess is he wanted the bite because he thought being a werewolf would cure whatever illness he has.”

“But it’s a 50-50 chance isn’t it?” Scott asked, frowning heavily in confusion. “It’s not a sure thing that the bite will take, right?”

“Chances are it’s going to take.” Stiles predicted darkly, ignoring the dirty look and elbow to the arm he got from Lydia. He gestured angrily, scowling as he asked, “What? I’m just _ saying _! Look at how everything gone tonight! Our luck is on the really shitty side right now! Chances are we’re gonna hafta fight an evil werewolf grandpa. No offense Allison.”

“None taken,” She sighed back.

“I hate to be that guy,” Isaac interrupted, “but how _ are _ we going to stop Gerard? He already knows how to fight, has a small army under his command, _ and _ could now potentially be a werewolf.”

Lydia held her hand up, index finger pointed up, “More importantly, how do we know that the people gathered in the town square haven’t already won? There’s a chance they managed to organize themselves in time and fought Gerard and the others back.”

“There’s a very slim chance of that happening,” Deucalion replied, an annoyed look on his handsome face. 

Scott scowled, sitting up straighter as he argued, “It _ might _ happen!”

“There’s a lot of politics and ego involved between the people on the Council,” Deucalion shook his head in disgust, “Despite the fact they’re facing such a large threat, they’ll be more preoccupied with deciding who will lead the charge. If I had to guess what is happening, then I would say the humans most likely found the Council arguing and have killed a lot more people who were standing around waiting for a bunch of pompous, egotistical bastards to tell them what to do.”

Startled at the vehemence in Deucalion’s words, Stiles could only gape soundlessly at the man. His mouth continued to hang open when Kali dryly said, “We know you don’t like the Council but that’s a bit too much. And to answer your question,” she addressed Lydia and Scott, “Aiden and Ethan went with Peter to a lake nearby. Peter’s going to summon a water nymph and ask them to go to the city and do a little recon for us. Once we know what we’re going up against, we’ll be able to think up the best plan of attack.”

Stiles pointed at the lake next to them and asked, “What’s wrong with that one?”

“Too small. The fae never thought it was worth it forming a road to here,” Kalia pointed a dark claw across the lake and into the trees, “Nearest fae connected lake is about twenty minutes that way. Ten if you run right through instead of taking the road.”

It was a sound plan. They needed to know what kind of situation they were headed into. But if there was one thing Stiles was bad at, it was waiting. So he waved his hand to get the tall lady’s attention, “Okay so while we’re waiting for them to get back, we should talk about Gerard and how we’re going to take him down. We need a plan A, B, C, all the way till Z.”

“We’ll figure it out later,” Ennis growled out, red eyes glaring at Stiles.

Undeterred and unphased, Stile argued, “There can’t _ be _ a later! We’re working against the clock! Every minute we wait out here, arguing over what we should do, people are _ dying _ in the city! And Gerard will probably be ready for us. We can’t just go in there metaphorical guns blazing and just _ hope _ that we’ll manage to overpower Gerard. The _ only _ way we can beat him is by using our brains. We need to outsmart him. And we’ve got the advantage this time because now we know what we’re up against _ and _what he wants.”

“Unless you’ve got any bright ideas about how to stop this guy, I’d shut up and wait,” Ennis sneered.

The large alpha’s reply made Stiles scowl hard and snap up to his feet, eyes blazing in anger, “Give me some time and I’ll have a plan that’ll knock your sock off in a minute _ flat _.” 

Ennis’ snarl made his hand fly towards the birch oil he’d stashed up his left sleeve. But a hard tug on his sleeve had him crashing down into Scott’s lap, “Now’s not the time to pick a fight.” 

While Laura was glaring at the larger werewolf, Deucalion snapped, “Ennis! Go out and see if the people Peter said to gather have arrived or not. Make sure they don’t head off into the city before we’re ready.”

“Yeah, you _ better _ walk away!” Stiles shouted at Ennis’ back. 

But the rest of his rant was cut off thanks to Scott slapping a hand over his mouth and hissing, “_ Jeez, _ what did I _ just _ say, dude?” 

The next _ two hours _ crawled by at the same pace of a sleepy old slug. The long, long, _ long _ day was _ finally _ taking its toll on his body. Tiredness began to creep into his muscles, making him wish he was asleep. But unfortunately for him, his brain was racing trying to figure out some way, _ any _way to take Gerard down. And he had bupkiss. Nada. Zilch. He moodily threw a stick at the ground and wished he had the energy to get up and kick something.

“Nothing?” Scott asked sympathetically. Stiles shot him a scowl as an answer. But his best friend ignored the look and patted Stiles’ arm, “You’ll figure something out.”

The show of faith was nice but also mildly annoying. And also not helpful because if there was one thing Stiles had a hard time managing it was other people’s expectations about him. And knowing that the whole group was depending on him to figure something out was… “Ugh, Lydia? Tell me you’ve got some kind of half-baked plan we can turn into a full-cooked turkey.”

“Don’t talk about food,” Allison groaned from her spot next to Scott. 

“And don’t make horrible analogies like that ever again. I never make half-baked plans,” Lydia said from his left.

“Fine, fine, you party poopers,” He thunked his head back into the tree he was sitting against, willing something in his head to shake loose and turn into a plan, “Let’s go over everything again. Maybe something’ll sink in.”

His friends sighed and groaned because this was the fourth time he’d asked this. But thankfully, rather than complaining about it, Lydia began to recite, “According to Peter and the alpha’s, Gerard and the others have captured the remaining people of the city and are holding them in the town hall. Whoever they couldn’t get in the hall, they’re being held hostage outside in the square. They've managed to kill or critically injure the leaders and used them to force the people into surrendering.”

Oh how he hated that Deucalion had been right about his guess regarding the Council. The group _ had _been too busy bickering to notice that they were being attacked. Stiles continued after that, reciting what Peter had told them all, “Everyone’s trapped inside the building because of of the ring of mountain ash around it. A lot of other people and families are trapped inside their homes and other buildings too. The soldiers are moving through the city, getting people out of their houses and taking them to the square.”

“Some of those people, people in packs, are being taken over to the park where Gerard and the others have their camp set up,” Allison finished, scrubbing a tired hand across her eyes. “The water nymphs said they saw the humans trying to use magic on the werewolves. And it looked pretty painful.”

Growling underneath her breath, Cora angrily ripped up a fistful of grass and dumped it into the large grass pile by her thigh. Isaac was eyeing the uprooted grass with a wry-sadness. Stiles could relate. He felt sad for all the grass Cora was taking her anger out on. RIP poor grass. God he was so tired…

“What are they trying to do to those werewolves?” Cora snarled, “Are they torturing them?”

“They’d never do that in the open. Would they?” Isaac asked the group, frowning as he saw hesitation in all their faces, “Okay, they might. But what about the curse they talked about.”

Stiles snapped his fingers and pointed at the werewolf, “That might be it! Gerard did say he was interested in the curse and using it on other magical creatures. He’s got the pages from Fenris’ journal that talks about it too. How much did Fenris know about that anyways?” He turned towards Derek. “You told me he didn’t know about what really happened to you. How did he know about the curse then?”

“I wasn’t the only one who was cursed,” Derek shrugged even as Cora nodded. “I was just one of the first. A lot of other people were cursed by the Hunters and not just werewolves. Most of them died on the way here but there’s still at least… Fifty? I guess. And almost every family here knows about it. It wouldn’t have been hard for Fenris to get the information he needed. The only thing we didn’t tell him was the truth about how the war started. But we told the truth to very few people in the start.”

Tapping her finger into the ground, Lydia asked, “Do you think any of them would remember any details about the curse? How to use it or anything like that?” But just as quickly she shook her head, “Forget I said that. That information would be useless if you don’t know the mechanics of the spell. There’s not a whole lot of sense in knowing what a spell does when you don’t have exact knowledge of how it works.”

Stiles scratched his scalp, lowering his head thoughtfully. It was entirely possible to gather a good bit of information by talking to a lot of people. But even then, at best, Fenris would have had an incomplete picture of the curse. The odds that Fenris’ journal held any information of value to Gerard were slim to none. That meant Gerard had gotten information from somewhere else. But where? When the big four covens had been wiped out, all their journals and spell books had been burned with them. Unless, Stiles’ fingers went slack in his hair, the Argents had their own records. Argat _ had _ to have kept his own set of records. But the fact that Gerard wanted him to translate Fenris’ text meant that the Argents didn’t have the whole story or that something was missing from Argat’s version.

Looking up, he leaned forward to look at Allison and asked, “So remember when you said that Gerard used to talk to you about werewolves and stuff and you thought he was going senile? That he tried to get you to read stuff? What exactly did he try to get you to read.”

“Journals mostly," Allison shifted in her seat, boots digging into the soil as she leaned back against a rock. 

“Is it… Were those journals from some kind of private collection or…?”

“They were from our family library. It’s an old collection that’s been handed down for generations. Why do you ask?” Her head tilted in confused, unsure where these questions were coming from and where they were going.

Stiles exhaled tiredly, “Depends on your answer. Does the library include books and journals written by your great-great-great-grandfather? Your ancestors I mean.”

Understanding dawned in an instant, Allison replied, “Yeah! Grandpa has a study that’s got a lot of really old books. Dad always told me to stay out of there back when he still used to go to the big house. I used to sneak in and read them sometimes. I think I was… twelve maybe when Gerard caught me and tried to make me to read some more journals." A realization dawned on her, her words slowing down as she continued. “They were about different magical creatures. They all had these drawings of all these creatures that I used to think were so cool...”

Stiles couldn’t help smile grimly. So his guess _ had _ been right. The Argents had their own personal library of supernatural knowledge. Probably filled with information about how to catch and kill magical creatures. _ That _ would explain _ so many things _ about the Argents.

Allison was scrubbing a hand over her face, groaning, “I used to read those thinking they were just _ stories _! Adventure stories! I never thought they were the real thing!” 

“To be fair, no one would think they were the real thing,” Isaac pointed out helpfully, “I mean, humans are raised to believe we don’t exist so.”

But Allison was lightly thumping her head back against the rock, “Gerard and Kate said that they’d wanted to tell me but my dad had stopped them. We stopped going over to their house after I told him that Gerard said I could read all the journals I wanted…He scolded me so bad and him and my mom had such a huge fight…” Exhaling, she mused, “Doesn’t explain why he hated what they did.”

“Maybe he’s just a good guy. Maybe he realized what they were doing was wrong and he wanted to stop.” Scott offered quietly. 

“Maybe he was just trying to protect you,” Lydia pointed out in the same quiet tone, “Maybe he wanted you to be you and not like Gerard or Kate.”

“And he _ probably _ didn’t want you laughing in his face when he told you all the magical creatures you’ve been reading about are real.” Stiles’ voice was dry as a bone. The look Lydia shot him made him shrug. “It’s true! I know _ I’d _ laugh if a month ago someone tried to convince me that magical creatures are real. Hell, I’d laugh straight at _ my dad’s _ face if he tried to tell me that.”

Derek gave him a deeply puzzled look, “Then why were you looking for the city? You didn’t think you’d find magical creatures here?”

“_Hell_ no!” Stiles chortled, “I told you how many years have passed on the outside right? Hundreds and hundreds and _hundreds _of years. My best hope was we’d find the _remains_ of a city. A bunch of arrowheads, some ruins, broken weapons here and there. Maybe a whole bunch of skeletons if we were lucky. At worst I thought we’d never find the city. There was a point I really thought that. But I _never_ thought at any point that we’d find a _thriving_ _society_! It was the last thing I was expecting!”

Isaac cleared his throat pointedly and gestured at their group, “Can we get back to the subject? We’re going off track here. We still don’t have a plan to get rid of Gerard.”

Glum silence fell over the group. Stiles slowly looked around, studying everyone. Some were easier reads than others: Scott and Allison were openly worried, Lydia was thoughtfully flicking invisible dirt out from under her nails, Cora looked pissed as hell. And then there was Isaac, not giving anything away as he stared quietly at a patch of grass. He didn’t even bothering including Derek into his little study because it was next to impossible to guess what Derek might be thinking. His permanent beta shift made him look incredibly angry or incredibly angry _and _worried at any given time. But there _was _body language to consider. Stiles looked up at the werewolf sitting quietly next to Isaac. And froze when his eyes met Derek’s straight on. 

Stiles felt a flush rise up his cheeks, wondering,_ ‘How long’s he been watching me _?’ And then Derek’s lips turned up at one corner, smiling. Weariness was etched into his body but he sat up straighter when Stiles returned his smile. Okay so maybe reading Derek was a hell lot more easier than he’d thought. Dropping his palms down behind him, Stiles leaned back and tipped his head back. The night sky was dark, the stars twinkling gently. From this view, you wouldn’t be able to tell that they were stuck in between a rock and a hard place. 

He turned his head to look at where Laura, Peter and the others were deep in conversation with a dark-skinned lady with straight, long hair.

“Who _ is _ she, by the way?” Stiles asked curiously, nodding at the woman. 

Cora glanced in the same direction before sighing, “Marin. “She’s Deaton’s sister. And the alpha pack's Emissary."

With a tiny ‘huh’, Stiles tipped his head back and pulled back into his own mind. He missed Scott’s question and the conversation it ignited in between their group. His mind was busy rolling around the information he had. They needed some way to deal with Gerard. The guy was dangerous enough as a human but with added werewolf strength? It was going to be a damn nightmare to deal with him. And given that he’d forced Talia to bite him, he was part of the Hale pack now! 

Which…meant…

Stiles froze as a bulb flickered to life inside his head. He stared at Marin as an idea began to formulate in his mind. It was a crazy idea. Built on a two very basic concepts but it was going to be dangerous. Borderline suicide if he was totally honest. And it was probably going to work because one of the concepts was such a small, _ basic _concept that Gerard had probably overlooked it all together. Stiles grinned as he pushed himself up to his feet, excitement thrumming through him.

“Stiles?” Scott asked puzzled. “What’s up?”

Stiles jogged away saying, “Just need to ask the Emissary something. I have an idea!”

* * *

_ “Is this going to hurt?” _

_ “Oh yes.” _

_ “Great. Figures. Can someone hold my hand? No wait! Scott, stand behind me. I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out so I need you to catch me if I fall. Wait, is that blood? You need _ blood _ for this?” _

_ “Is that going to be a problem?” _

_ “Kinda... Ugh, let’s just get this over with. God, this is so unhygienic.” _

_ “Why don’t you lie down. That way you won’t hurt yourself when you pass out.” _

_ “Love the show of faith there Scott.” _

_ “I just know you too well.” _

* * *

It seemed to Stiles that he’d just closed his eyes when he’d was being shaken awake by Cora. After letting out a jaw cracking yawn, Stiles rubbed his eyes before sniffing and staring blearily around him. People were waking up and starting to get on their feet. It looked like everyone’d managed to catch a few hours of sleep but dawn had come too soon regardless. Dangling an energy bar under his nose along with a small bottle of yellow liquid, Cora told him to washed up and get ready to move.

Yawning, Stiles stumbled over to the lake and as he knelt, leaned against Derek and whined, “I feel like shit.”

The werewolf snorted and tapped a claw against the bottle, “That’ll make you feel better. Marin’s brews are some of the best in the city. You’ll be on his feet in a minute.”

“But my brain’ll still be asleep,” Stiles sighed, putting both items on the ground before dipping his hands into the lake. The splash of cold water on his face and neck had been the shock he’d needed to push sleep away temporarily. Feeling slightly more awake, Stiles drank the energy brew and gagged before hurriedly tearing the energy bar open and taking a bite out of it. 

“Do you think they’ll be keeping an eye on the main road?”

Stiles let the bar hang out of his mouth as he turned to see who Laura was talking too. Laura stood behind him, next to Kaali, who was staring thoughtfully towards the city, “If they were smart, they would. But if they think they’ve already won the city and’ve let their ego go to their heads…”

“Let’s hope for the latter,” Deucalion said, looking up at the lightening sky before raising his voice, “We leave in five.” 

Rubbing his hands together to warm them up, Stiles finished his breakfast and joined Allison and Lydia in some quick stretches. As he stretched his arms up over his head, he asked the latter, “How’s your head? Still killing you?”

Lydia sighed wearily, “I feel like I could scream till my throat bled and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s a yes then?” 

Rolling her eyes, Lydia poked him in the ribs and told him to hold his breath properly as he stretched. Obediently, Stiles mimicked the girls actions and told himself to be on his toes once they moved out. Today was possibly going to be longer than the night they’d have. They’d been up deep into the night, turning his hare-brained scheme into a proper plan. Just remembering the arguments made his head ache. Stiles raised a hand up to massage his forehead and saw the bandage wrapped around his forearm. The sight of the white cloth made his fingers literally twitch with the urge to slide his fingers under the bandage and rid himself of the itchy-ache that had been plaguing him. 

He peeked under the bandage and had slipped a finger in when a calm voice to his right said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Stiles jumped, staring at Marin who was giving him a neural look, “You might spoil it if you tried scratching it.”

He paled, hand clutching the bandage before immediately yelping and waving his arm. The hurt that zinged up his arm made him forget about the itching at least. And it had hurt like _ hell _. Stiles was waving his arm in front of him when Scott gestured for him to cover over; it was time to move out. With a nod, Stiles slipped his hand up his left sleeve. Good, the oil was still there. He checked his pocket and found a piece of chalk. And tied to his belt was the knife. Excellent. Stiles was armed and ready.

Jogging over, he followed Scott walk through the trees and towards the road. They walked in a straight line through the awakening forest. A soft wind was rustling the leaves. Birds were starting to wake up, warbling a few notes of confusion at the small group walking past them. A single black cat sat at the roots of a tree and meowed at them. If Stiles tried hard enough, he thought he could forget who was leading their group and what they were about to do. But before he could fully put his imagination to use, they were stumbling onto the road where a rather large group of remaining city folk had been waiting for them.

Laura and the other alphas greeted the leaders first, quietly asking if everyone knew the plan. They all nodded. “We’re ready to move out. We’re ready to take our city back,” a short woman with a large beak replied, feathered wings shivering in excitement behind her. The spear in her hands shone in the growing light as she pointed at the city and let out a chilling eagles cry that the rest of the crowd took up.

Stiles exchanged an amazed look with Allison before turning to face Laura, who shouted, “Let’s go!”

As one, they began marching towards the city. The plan was simple: they were going to sneak back into the city in two groups. The water nymphs were going to use their routes to do recon and relay information back to the groups, to make sure they avoided running into trouble. The split up was again, simple. The city group and the werewolves, with Stiles and company. 

The city group consisted of all the people who had gathered to fight. Their leaders were going to lead their people into the city, slipping through the back alleys and over rooftops to ambush as many humans as they could. Each group would have at least one human with them to break all mountain ash barriers that might come in their path. 

They’d split into smaller groups the closer they’d get to their destination – the town hall. At the signal – an eagles’ cry – they were going to attack whatever forces they came up against, free the hostages, and rally them in an all-out attack against the humans. The alpha pack and the Hales were going to slip into the city on their own . They were going to act as a distraction for the larger groups of humans that were patrolling the city. Derek however, was going to come with them. Their own group was going to go in stealthily. They were going to steal a few soldier kits and sneak into the camp that Gerard had set up in the park. To complete the camouflage, Marin would use a glamour that would allow them to sneak around camp without being detected. Stiles had called dibs on Gerard, Allison and Scott had agreed to deal with Kate, Lydia had promised to deal with anyone who might try to sneak up on them.

Weak morning light shone on the city, casting it in a pale light as it came into sight. 

“Do you see anything?” Laura was asked the beaked-lady.

She stared at the city, eyes narrowing before she shook her head, “No guards.”

“Good,” Kaali purred, eyes flashing red, “That makes it easy for us.”

Pleased whispers rose up behind them which were immediately smothered as they passed the first building. Several of the werewolves immediately parkoured their way up the nearest roof and began to help their friends up. 

Meanwhile, Stiles pushed Scott to the front of their group next to Derek, telling him to keep his ears peeled.

“Don’t you mean eyes?” 

Rolling his eyes, he gave Scott another shove, “That too. Just keep an eye out for any of Gerard’s goons.”

With Derek and Scott leading the way, they moved swiftly but cautiously through the streets, jogging down the middle of the street to avoid most of the debris. A few buildings were still burning. He had to bite his tongue as they avoided those, holding his breath as he tried not to breathe in the smell of burning wood and flesh. Several werewolves and people were covering their face with their faces, grimacing at the thick smell of smoke. Shit. That was going to be a downside. But on the flip side, the smoke gave them cover enough to sneak in. Plus one minus one equal zero. 

Pulling a disgusted face, Derek turned to address Stiles, “I’m going up. See if I can get a better look from the roof.”

Nodding, he watched the werewolf leap up and grab a ledge before using it to heft his weight up. Werewolf strength had its perks clearly, and one of them was being able to climb roofs in a single bound. He saw Derek glance down at them before gesturing with two fingers down the street. Given the size of their group, Stiles was surprised at how quietly they were passing through the streets. He glanced behind just in time to see a centaur slip away into an alley, tail flicking before he disappeared. Their group was probably around thirty people now. The next time he glanced around, more people had slipped away to follow another path to the town hall. But Marin was still with them. 

Scott suddenly held a hand up, palm out gesturing for everyone behind him to stop. They halted immediately, tightening their grasp on their weapons. 

“Soldiers,” Scott whispered, waving at the group to hide quickly, “Derek says there’s three of them. They’re walking down the road. I’m going to jump out to get their attention. While they’re focused on me, Derek’s going to get the drop on them.”

Stiles swallowed harshly, nodding with the others. A part of him was relieved they’d be spared the part where they’d have to kill the humans. He didn’t agree with what they’d done but Stiles didn’t want to kill them either. 

Together, they slipped into the closest alley. With their backs pressed against the wall in the opposite direction from where the soldiers were coming from, they held their breath and waited. Stiles’ hands went to the knife first before changing paths and going for his oil. Given a choice, he’d rather not use the knife. He held his breath, straining his ears to hear the soldiers approaching. A song bird was singing its morning call somewhere distantly. The low crackle of fire was dying down close by. A boot scruffed against the road. Stiles could hear the guards voices. They were bickering about something. 

He tightened his grip on his knife when Scott whispered, “Here we go.”

Scott jumped out of the alley and out of their sights. But his cheerful, “Hi there” rang clear as a bell between them.

There was no way to see what kind of reaction the soldiers had to that but inexplicably, Stiles wanted to let out a braying laugh. Trust Scott to use his cheerfulness as a distraction. The guards barely had finished saying, “What the h-“ when their voices were cut off.

All he heard were surprised grunts, a shout cut off half way, the sound of punches being thrown, and three heavy thuds that doubtlessly were bodies hitting the ground. It was over in under a minute. A couple of seconds later, Scott stuck his head into the alley and gestured for them to come out. As Stiles stepped out, his eyes did a cautious sweep around them, anticipating blood and possibly broken necks. But no. Derek had just knocked the three women out. Stiles blinked down at the woman Derek was dragging over to the nearest wall. Her hair was askew, falling over her face and the giant goose egg growing on her head. 

He looked up straight into Derek’s eyes and deadpanned, “I’m totally going to stretch her sweater out.”

The werewolf glanced down at the lady and snorted. “We’ll look for another guard for you.”

Allison and Lydia were moving quickly, snagging the dark sweaters and guns off the unconscious bodies before slipping them on. Meanwhile Stiles helped Derek tied the unconscious women up and left them propped up against the wall. As soon as the girls had put on the dark uniform, Marin stepped in. Stiles eyed the tin of face cream the emissary pulled out of her bag, wondering how was that going to help? His eyebrows shot up when she popped the tin open and revealed the contents; the small blue tin was half-filled with a thick, clear substance. Stiles couldn’t be sure without touching it, but from the looks of it, it appeared to have the same viscosity and thickness as gelatin. 

“What is that?” Stiles asked, hand reaching out to touch the substance.

A sharp slap inches away from contact had him jumping back, wounded expression on his face. Marin ignored his puppy dog eyes, and explained, “It’s what’s going to help change your appearance. But only the face. So unless you want to look like one of them,” She pointed at the unconscious women, “I’d suggest waiting until it’s your turn.”

“Coulda just said that,” Stiles grumbled under his breath as Marin asked Lydia and Allison to step forward. 

Marin held the container out towards them, “Take just enough so that it will cover your face. It has the same consistency as any face cream. Smear it on your palm and add a drop of blood of whoever you want to look like. When it changes color, apply the glamour over your face. It should take immediately effect.”

The girls exchanged a look before dipping a delicate finger into the glamour. After they’d smeared it into their palm, they walked back to the unconscious ladies. Curiosity and the desire to help made Stiles follow them, pulling his knife out of its sheath.

“Here,” he said, holding the first woman’s hand up before pushing the knife’s tip into the pad of her finger. Blood welled up immediately. Allison pushed her palm underneath cut, caught two drops of blood and pulled back. 

“Mix it,” Marin said over their shoulder. After a split second of hesitation, Allison smeared the blood into the transparent liquid in her hand. They all let out surprised noises when the blob’s color changed to match the unconscious woman's skin tone. 

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to teach me how to make that?” Stiles turned around to ask Marin. She smirked back, pressing the lid back on the container. Sighing, Stiles decided he’d try to wear her down later. Persistence had often helped him get what he wanted. He pricked the other soldier’s finger, waited for Lydia to catch a few drops of blood in her palm, before letting go of the soldier’s tanned hand. 

Stiles cleaned the knife and sheathed it, “Okay. We need to find some male guards and-“ He looked up and did a violent double take.

“That’s just freaky,” Scott declared because Allison and Lydia’s faces looked _ exactly _ like the soldiers who sat unconscious a couple of feet away from them. 

The girls turned to look at each other immediately. From the way their faces shifted from surprise to mildly shaken up, they agreed with Scott’s assessment. 

“But what about your hair?” Derek asked Lydia with a frown, “That one’s not a red head.”

Lydia reached up to grab a few locks of her hair, scowling heavily at the red shade before asking, “I could cover it up? Wasn’t the third one wearing a hat?”

She’d barely finished her sentence before Scott was jogging towards the third guard to grab her beanie. It took little searching because it wasn’t on the woman’s head. It had slipped off her head when Derek had dragged her to sit next to her friends. Scott picked the black cap up from where it had fallen, dusting it off before handing it off to Lydia. As soon as she’d tucked her hair under the beanie, Stiles was signalling the others that they were ready to go.

They took down two more groups - a pair and a trio - before they had gotten enough clothes and guns for Scott and himself. 

Scott had stared at the glamour before asking, “This _ is _going to work on me right? I mean, it’s not just for humans?”

“It’ll work,” Marin reassured him. As they were smearing the glamour onto their faces, Marin warned, “Just avoid getting splashed. A little bit of water and the glamour will wash off.”

With that warning, she’d taken the few humans remaining and slipped away. Leaving them on their own as they headed towards the heart of the city. As Stiles tugged on the high sweater collar, he wondered why bad guys always went for black turtlenecks. What kind of villain chic was that? Why couldn’t they adopt a more comfortable style, like say, jeans and a loose t-shirt? 

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus before reminding his friends, for the eight time, “Remember guys, you need to keep everyone else off my back when I’m doing my thing with Gerard.”

“We _ know, _” They all replied one, annoyed voice. 

Rolling his eyes at their testy tone, Stiles muttered, “Just making sure we’re all on the same page here.”

It was the last anyone spoke. The barricades were thicker now, causing them to move in a winding motion through the streets. At several parts, the barricades had crumbled into a pile of wood and steel and they’d had to slip through narrow gaps to get through. If they’d have more time they would have found an alternate path but…Swallowing in the vain hopes of wetting his dry throat, Stiles glanced up at the nearest building. He saw Derek jumping from one building to the next. The werewolf hadn’t said anything. Or if he had, Scott hadn’t told him. Which might be better. Given how close they were getting, it would be better to stay quiet. But he _ did _need to ask something.

“Derek,” Stiles said quietly, “Have the others gotten to the square already?”

His heart beat frantically inside his chest when he heard gunfire, followed by a _ loud _ eagles’ scream. Well. That answered that didn’t it?

Holding onto his rifle for dear life, Stiles tried to clamp down on his nerves. He felt like he was going to throw up and never stop. He felt like he could run for miles. Stiles felt ready for this. He wanted to run away and never look back. Stiles felt like electricity was coursing through his veins, causing the hair at the back of his arms to stand up.

The feeling only grew when Stiles caught sight of the square through the barricade. His stomach twisted itself into nervous knots, growing into a proper ache when Scott whispered, “Ready?" They all exchanged a look with each other, tightening their grips on their weapons before nodding at Scott. The werewolf nodded in return before murmuring, “We’re ready to go.” 

Stiles licked his dry lips, heart pounding as he watched Scott count 60 seconds out, fingers curling and uncurling against his thigh. An almighty cacophony of howls and roars filled the air at 15 seconds. At 22 seconds someone shouted loud enough for their voice to carry down to them. 25 seconds there was gunfire and more shouting. At 30 seconds, Stiles let go of his gun to give Scott a tiny push because he _ couldn’t _ wait another half a minute before getting out there.

It was a relief when Scott muttered, “Forget it.” before racing through the last barricade that kept them from entering the square. 

Stiles bit a manic grin down and followed Scott, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to gauge what the situation was. The werewolves had engaged the group guarding the town hall, dodging bullets, and taking the soldiers down with a speed that was breathtaking. The other creatures were engaging with other soldiers, ducking behind large sheets of metal to avoid being shot.

“Where the hell’d they get those from?” he heard Allison ask from behind him.

“Probably from one of the barriers? I think I saw a few sheets like that in a barricade behind. It’s a good idea,” Lydia answered.

In between the fighting groups, Stiles saw a familiar face slipping through. Marin sneaked past the trio of soldiers who were too busy trying not to let Kaali slash their throats and broke the huge circle of mountain ash surrounding the building. Stiles saw her run up the short steps and dart inside the building. Hopefully there weren’t any guards on the inside. 

“I think that’s it.” Allison’s voice broke his thoughts. She was pointing at the large tent set a few feet away from the park edge. It was a stone’s throw away from the bench he’d sat on with Derek days ago. His grip tightened on his gun when he saw the blood splattered on the stone. 

“Okay,” Lydia said quietly, eyes flicking over the three guards standing at the tent entrance, “We need to get those goons away from there. Any suggestions?”

“We go up to them telling them they need to join in the fight and when we get close enough,” Allison held her crossbow up, “we knock them out. As soon as they’re out, Stiles, you go into the tent and see who’s in there.” 

The three guards stood tense, guns pointing from one fighting body to another. They fired off a couple of rounds at a few magical creatures that came too close. He was surprised to note that the few shots that connected, weren’t caused black blood to seep out of the person’s wounds. Did that mean Gerard’s people had run out of wolfsbane bullets? 

However, despite the strength he got from that thought, Stiles glanced at the tent warily and asked, “What if Gerard and everyone’s in there?” 

“Then you tell them what’s going on,” Lydia replied smartly, pulling the clip out of her gun before hefting it up, “Be a good little soldier and give them an update. And when they leave? When they turn their back at you? You get the drop on them. Keep it simple, right?”

With a reedy laugh, Stiles hefted his rifle up against his shoulder and muttered, “Easier said that done. You got my back, right Lydia?”

As the red head nodded, Scott asked, “Ready?”

“No.” Stiles grumbled.

“Good. Let’s go.”

They ran together towards the tent, darting around all the fighting. Allison led the group, shouting at the guards as soon as they got close enough. She yelled at them to stop standing there and help the rest of them! “Can’t you see we’re getting our asses handed to us! Where’s the rest of your wolfsbane bullets?”

“We don’t have any left,” The guard was shouting back, “There were only a couple of them left after last night!”

His words were drowned out by the roar that rang through the square. Stiles turned and caught sight of people _ pouring _out of the town hall doors. Many of the people racing down the stairs had bandages wrapped around their injuries, but their shifted faces were ablaze with renewed determination. They didn’t have any weapons on them besides their claws, fangs, and whatever else nature had given them. The human soldiers were shouting in panic. They were either shooting blindly at the crowd coming towards them or they’d dropped their guns in favor of using their magic to fight. 

It was the perfect distraction they needed to knock the guards out. Allison took two out while Scott took out the last one. Now he just had to go inside and see if the Argents were there or not.

“Scott,” Stiles said, “Keep your ear on me. I’ll tell you who’s in there.”

As soon as Scott nodded, Stiles swallowed and pushed the cover back. He inhaled sharply when Kate’s eyes flew up to meet his. Her eyes were ablaze with fury, like she was pissed beyond words that he’d caught her loading her gun with bullets. Stiles’ eyes ticked to the gleaming metal, frowning slightly when he saw the crest marked on the metal. Kate must have kept the last of the wolfsbane bullets for herself. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Matt asked sharply, “We told the guards we weren’t to be disturbed.”

Stiles felt his jaw drop in genuine confusion. Had… Had they not heard the utter pandemonium going on outside? Actually… He couldn’t hear anything. Had someone cast some kind of silencing or dampening spell around the tent? Stiles bit down on a couple of curses. Of course they had! They wouldn’t have wanted anyone to eavesdrop on them so they’d effectively put themselves into a vacuum. Matt was flat out glaring at him, which he wasn’t sure if it was a step up or down from open contempt. Gerard was looking at Stiles like he was an ant he wanted to step on.

So Stiles just let his hand shoot out towards the outside, “The animals! They managed to break the barrier around the building! We’re out-numbered!”

“What?” Gerard roared, slamming his hands down on the table.

He had planned to stammer but with the way his nerves were acting up, there was no pretending when he replied, “T-the people inside the building. There’s some shifters who attacked u-us and they let the creatures out. They-they came out of nowhere with weapons and-”

“Matt,” Gerard cut him off sharply, “Take the spell down.”

The _ second _ the spell broke, furious sound of gunfire, magic, and furious yells flooded the tent. Stiles watched Matt’s face turn pale. Kate and Gerard however, looked more annoyed than anything else,

“Matt. Go out there and take care of this. We’ll stay here.”

“But how will I…”

Gerard gave him an unimpressed look, “Grab a gun, gather our people, and _ shoot _ those animals down. It’s not that hard. It’s just like we did last night. Now go.”

With a shaky nod, Matt swept out the tent. Interesting group dynamics Stiles couldn’t help but think as the tent entrance flapped close. He turned around to face the remaining two Argents. 

Gerard and Kate were standing side by side near the head of the small table. Gerard’s palms were flat against the table, holding a large piece of paper down. They seemed to have forgotten Stiles was still there, “Where did you say the rest of those creatures were hiding? Here?”

Kate shook her head and tapped another part of the map, running it down in a line, “Some place here. Patrol caught a few of them running away towards the forest. I’m guessing that’s where the rest of them are. Maybe here.”

“We’re going to have to burn the forest down,” Gerard decided, fingers tapping against the table top, “As soon as we’re done pushing the monsters back into the hall, grab all the magic users. We’re going to end this. Burn this entire god forsaken valley to the ground.”

Cold sweat broke across his brow. _ Shit _ . He had to take Gerard out right now. But... could he do this? He’d never attempted anything like this. Not to mention it was practically murder. His grip on the gun tightened as he reminded himself of what Gerard and Kate were planning. This was _ genocide _. And someone had to stop them. Might as well be Stiles.

Feeling short of breath, Stiles wiped the sweat gathering on his forehead away with the back of his hand, “I-I forgot to mention. I think I saw All- I saw your neic- I saw Allison out there.”

The father-daughter pair looked up with matching disinterested looks as he started to speak up. But as soon as he’d said Allison’s name, their expressions changed. Kate looked startled for a moment before smirking hard. As if that wasn’t disconcerting enough, Gerard was staring at him with a calculating look.

“Kate,” The man said calmly, “Why don’t you get this young man a drink. He sounds like he could use some water. You. Sit down. Take a breather. ”

Stiles froze in his place, wide eyes watching Kate move around to grab the thermos sitting in the tent corner. What? 

“Oh umm, no thanks. I’m fine,” Stiles shook his head at Gerard, who was starting to smile at him. What the hell were they doing? Why were they acting so nice to him all of a sudden?

Was Scott listening to this on the other side of the tent? He swiped his hand across his face once again, wiping the sweat off against his jeans when he said, “Don’t you think yo-w-someone should go help Allison. She’s fighting with the others out there and might get hur-”

“She can handle herself,” Kate cut him off with a sweet smile, walking up to him with a cup of water in hand. Stiles eyed the rippling water distrustfully. Every fiber of his being was telling him to back away from Kate until he was out of the tent, “She knows how to fight and hold her own. She’ll be alright.”

Stiles forced himself to stand still as Kate came within arm’s reach, holding the cup of water out with a smile on her lips, “Here. Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

The water wasn’t spiked with anything was it? Cautiously, Stiles stretched his hand out towards the cup. His fingers were inches away when Kate’s hand jerked up, causing the water to fly into his face. Time froze for a split second. Stiles could see every drop of water that was flying for his face and remembered Marin’s warning a second too late. He ducked, but he couldn’t avoid the splash. It hit him right in the face, some of it going up his nose and into his mouth. Spluttering and choking, Stiles stumbled back. He coughed harder when a hand slammed into his chest and pushed him down to the ground. 

“That was a nice try,” Kate grinned overhead, an impressed smile turning her lips up as Stiles wheezed from the floor, “But you never should depend on glamours you apply to your skin. I expected better from you Stiles.”

But he hadn’t... What had given him away? Wait. Sweat. If he wasn’t already gasping for breath on the ground, Stiles would bang his head into the hard earth. Instead, he groaned and tried to move away when Kate’s knee dug into his chest. _ Shit _, that hurt like hell. He flinched as she yanked the gun out of his hands, followed by his oil and the knife.

“I don’t know what the hell you were planning on doing, but you should give up. What can you do to stop us? It’s better to give up and help us.”

“Listen to her, Stiles.” Gerard’s gravelly voice was heavy with amusement. “I’d hate to hurt you to get your help but I’ll do what’s necessary.”

Pushing himself up on his knees, Stiles glared at the pair. “I’m _ not _ helping you kill these innocent people! They’ve done nothing to deserve this!”

Kate threw her head back and laughed, “_ Innocent _ people?” She repeated mockingly, “They’re _ monsters _. That’s more than enough reason to kill them all.”

“They’re people too!” Stiles insisted harshly, glaring up at the blonde, “The only one in this city who’s an animal right now is _ you _.”

The hand came flying out of nowhere, cracking against his face with the speed and sound of lightning flashing across the sky. His head whipped to the side, ear ringing as his cheek smacked against the cold ground. 

“Watch your mouth before I cut your tongue out,” Kate’s voice was low and hard and barely audible over the damned ringing in his ear.

“Let’s wait until we’ve gotten him to translate the pages at least, Kate.” Gerard instructed, going back to perusing the papers on the table as Kate forced him to stand. 

“Like he needs his tongue for that,” She complained, pushing Stiles towards the table. Stiles staggered forward, hands pressing into the table to keep himself steady and put more distance between himself as Kate. But that meant standing closer to Gerard. Frozen in place, Kate moved to stand in front of him. Effectively cutting his only escape route off. She tapped her fingers against the papers littering the table, “Now Stiles. You’re going to help us whether you like it or not. Or else we’re going to find that shifter you’re so fond of, and torture him in front of you. And then we’ll get Scott, and do the same to him. Then that psychic friend of yours.”

“You wouldn’t,” He argued, knowing and _ hating _how weak he sounded.

Kate smirked and took a step forward. Stiles took a step back but there was nowhere else to go. It might as have a large tent but with the table and three other people in it, it was pretty damn small. And it felt smaller still to Stiles when he found himself cornered. He struggled to remain still and not show any pain when Kate ran her cool fingertips over his aching cheek with a deceptive gentleness.

“I can think of a few ways to have fun with that beast. How long do you think it would take to bleed him dry? Or how long would it take for his healing to give out and die?”

Stiles froze. He opened his mouth to argue they wouldn’t but the sheer nonchalance in Kate’s voice numbed his brain. He glanced over at Gerard, who was smirking faintly at him. They weren’t bluffing. They’d torture Derek and Scott just to force his hand. He had to do something… had to figure some way to stop Kate and Gerard right _ now _. There was no way he could translate whatever text they had. Stiles wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he had a role to play in this massacre, even if his hand had been forced.

Stiles’ hands gripped the tent fabric tightly. _ ‘Think, think, think! What can I do? Is there anything I can use?’ _His hands relaxed, shoulders dropping deliberately. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, ignored the churning in his stomach before whispering, “Okay...”

“What was that?” Gerard asked.

Licking his lips, Stiles repeated in the same hoarse voice, sounding as defeated, “Okay I’ll help you.”

“_ Knew _you had a brain there somewhere,” The blonde grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back towards the table. 

But Stiles let his body go loose; pretending shock had gotten the better of him. She let out an annoyed growl as she stood behind him and grabbed him by the pits, trying to heft him up. “Get up!”

Now.

Stiles braced himself and slammed his elbow into her stomach as hard as he could, rolling away as her grip loosened. He snatched the birch oil from where Kate had thrown it, uncorked the bottle with a jerk hard enough to make some of the liquid spill out. 

His fingers shook with adrenaline as he drew the air rune over his hand, eyes flying up at Gerard snarl of “Stop him!”

He was one line away from finishing the rune and blasting the old man out of the tent when something slammed into his body. With a pained gasp, Stiles went flying through the tent wall. He crashed on the cool grass on the other side, shoulder colliding first before he rolled to a stop. Heaving heavy, short breaths, Stiles stared up at the sky and wondered what the hell had just happened. 

“And here I actually thought you’d come to your senses,” Kate mused, neatly stepping over the torn material flapping in the wind. Stiles pushed one hand under himself and raised his head to look at her, blearily eyeing the wound on Kate’s palm. Blood dripped slow but steady into the grass as she walked up to him; a blood rune. That explained why it’d packed such a punch. “You should really know better than to go up against us Stiles. I thought you’d be smarter than this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He wheezed out, trying to get himself back on his feet. Where the hell was the oil? If he had _ any _ chance of winning this, he needed that oil.

Stiles made the critical mistake of taking his eyes off Kate. Just as he glanced around him in search of the birch oil vial, Kate’s boot came into contact against his side. Pain shot through him immediately, causing him to shout and fall down. Face pressed into the grass, Stiles grit his teeth and curled into a fetal position. He could hear Kate walking around him, boots crunching against the wet ground.

“It means you should have sided with us. I thought you were smart enough to pick the winning side, but I guess I was wrong. You really should have known better.”

With clenched teeth, Stiles turned his head to look at Kate. His eyes followed her hand as she dragged a finger through her bleeding wound and used the blood to form a sigil on her hand. Stiles scoffed, “You’re telling me to be smart enough when _ you’re _ the one using blood magic? Who’s the idiot now? Didn’t you once say that you hated people who relied on magic and liked doing things with your own hands?” 

While Kate’s attention was locked on completing the symbol, Stiles managed to steady himself. He quickly looked around himself and saw the vial glinting at him a few feet away. Stiles began a cautious backward crawl away from Kate, hoping that she’d think he was doing it out of fear rather than necessity.

Kate shrugged delicately as she answered, “True. I do hate people who rely too much on magic, but,” she dipped her finger in her blood again and drew what looked like a semi-circle on the back of her hand, “there’s times you need to do things you hate to get the job done.” Stiles felt himself freeze when she looked up and caught his eye. A wicked grin was spreading over her face, “And I want to see how much of a boost my power got after I killed those magical bastards.”

Fear paralyzed Stiles. He stared up at the blonde, holding his breath as he watched her press her fingers against the sigil, getting ready to activate the mark. 

An arrow landed with a thump in right next to Kate’s boot, followed by an angry roar.

Kate jumped back, expression twisted in shock and anger as she snarled at the interruption. Stiles used the opportunity to scramble to his feet, twisting around to see how much more distance lay between himself and the bottle. Just another couple of feet. 

“Allison!” Stiles heard Kate shout angrily, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Taking a few hurried strides, Stiles grabbed the half empty bottle and turned to face Kate. Who was glaring angrily at Allison, who was advancing on them quickly with Derek by her side. And Derek, he noted in surprise, was carrying a spear. They hurried over to Stiles, Allison keeping her crossbow aimed at Kate while Derek helped him to his feet.

Feeling more than a little dazed, Stiles pointed at the spear and asked, “What do you need a spear for?”

“To scratch my back, why do you think?” Derek retorted sarcastically, “To fight with, obviously.”

The only reason Stiles didn’t retort with a scathing remark of his own was because Allison asked, “You okay Stiles?”

“I’ll live,” He answered, “Where’s Scott and Lydia?”

“You didn’t hear her scream? Just after you went into the tent she just blanked out, screamed, and passed out. Scott took her away some place safe.”

“Shit! Did she get hurt?” 

Allison shrugged, trigger finger flexing when she saw Gerard step out of the tent. And he looked nine shades of pissed off as his eyes flew from Stiles to Allison to Kate. “What the hell is going on here Kate?” He barked at his daughter. 

As Kate quickly explained the situation to the irate werewolf, Stiles thought, _ ‘This is it. Time to end it all.’ _

His fingers clutched the vial for dear life as he asked quietly, “Ready to do this?” 

“We’ll take care of her,” Derek answered, twirling his spear in a lazy figure eight before standing shoulder to shoulder with Allison, who nodded grimly, crossbow still aimed at Kate, who had moved to stand a few feet away from her father.

Overhearing them, Kate laughed and taunted, “Really? Two against one? That doesn’t seem like a fair battle.”

“Go,” Allison urged him, “Take care of Gerard. We’ll hold her back.”

Stiles’ eyes flicked to Kate, studied the ugly look on her face as she spoke, “Don’t do this Allison. You’re making a huge mistake. Put your crossbow down and come over to me. There’s still time to make this right.”

“No. _ Nothing _ can make this right,” Allison spat back, crossbow shaking thanks to the tight grip she had on the weapon, “ _ Nothing _ can justify what you’re doing! And I’m not going to stand by and watch you do this.”

A flicker of disappointment passed over Kate’s face before hardening into a look of intense pity, “You don’t even know how wrong you are.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Stiles ignored the pair, watching Gerard take a few steps to the side, cool as a cucumber. Like they weren’t standing on the fringes of a battle. Stiles followed, matching the old man step for step. He met Gerard’s eyes, noted the stern amusement in it, and swallowed harshly.

“Kate,” the blonde tilted her head towards Gerard, indicating her attention, “If Allison is so determined to side with these animals, then deal with her like one of them.” 

There was a moment where Kate clearly hesitated and Stiles thought that _ maybe _ Allison had been right about swaying Kate. That maybe the love between them would be enough. It would be enough to make Kate switch sides. Or at the very least, disagree with Gerard. Make her argue and say she couldn’t fight her only, precious niece. But the look was gone in a flash, along with the little spark of hope Stiles felt. Kate’s eyes hardened in an instant, body language changing as she aimed her hand at the pair standing before her. Kate was ice and steel combined when she activated the sigil, aiming it Allison’s way. Stiles could feel the magic gathering in the air like a physical force. Pressure directed inward with Kate as a focal point before blasting outwards towards Allison and Derek as a shot of misty white energy.

Stiles jumped to avoid the hit, displaced air flowing past him in a rush. Twisting around, he saw the pair had dodged the spell. Satisfied, Stiles turned his full attention towards Gerard standing a few feet away, grinning toothily at him.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, Stiles,” Gerard taunted, holding his hands up to show Stiles his clawed hands. Well, _shit_. “I’ll try not to hurt you too bad but I apologize in advance if I get too rough. I haven’t gotten used to my new strength yet.”

Jaw clicking, Stiles took a step back before beginning to move in a careful circle around Gerard. Behind the man he could see Derek attacking Kate with the spear as Allison shouted something at her aunt. His lips curled into a disgusted sneer when Gerard’s face twisted into its beta shift. While Derek and the others shifted faces were far from human, there was a bestial beauty in them. Their faces were ferocious but beautiful. But Gerard’s beta shift was ugly. _ Grotesque _. His skin had turned dark, ears pointed and sharp at the tips. His brows were more furrowed than Derek’s, with grooves on his cheeks. He snarled at Stiles, revealing a set of pointy, misshapen teeth. Gerard looked very much like the monsters that he claimed to be fighting against. Isaac’s words came back to him – “You take the shape that reflects you”. It made sense for Gerard’s shifted face to be this ugly. 

Disgust turned to shock when Gerard’s red eyes locked on him. 

“You’re an alpha?” Stiles asked sharply, thoughts running wild. Had Laura been hurt? _ Killed _? That couldn’t be! If that were true then Derek would have something! “What the hell did you do, you bastard?”

Gerard grinned even wider, hunching forward as fur sprouted up his arms, “There were a few alpha’s in the group we captured when we stormed the city.I killed one of them when her when she refused to answer my questions. Imagine my surprise when I felt her power flow into me.”

Did this mean his plan would be easier to implement or harder? Would Gerard being an alpha make him less susceptible to magic now? Or would the underlying assumptions of his plan remain true and hold? As his mind frantically tried to figure the answers out, Gerard continued, “I had another alpha brought in after her. I questioned him too and when he didn’t tell me anything useful, I killed him as well.” Gerard’s grin was maniacal, “There are no words to describe the _ rush _ of power I felt when I killed them. I thought I had known power before but this... is completely different.”

“What do you mean, you’d known power before? I thought you hated magic. Didn’t you say that depending on magic was a crutch? So how the hell could you know?”

“Oh it is.” 

Allison shouted at Derek to look out. The temptation to glance over was too great. His body twitched even, mind and will power taking control back just in time. Stiles clenched his hands into fists, body tense as Gerard took a step forward.

“All you magic users depend too much on magic. From the most complicated of tasks to the most simple ones, you use magic for everything. It doesn’t matter if you want to protect your building or need a fire to light a cigarette. You’ve got a rune, spell, brew, sigil for it. The magic controls you, not the other way around. You’re slaves and you don’t even know it. If I had my way then we wouldn’t be teaching it in schools. It wouldn’t be a part of our lives the way it is. It would be controlled and used only by people who are worthy. But I decided to learn the only magic that was _ worth _ learning. And I made sure Kate learned it too.”

Stiles couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding over to Kate. She was summoning a dark ball of energy between her cupped hands, smoky wisps dripping off the edges as she hurled it at Derek, who was straightening up. There wasn’t enough time for Derek to dodge the hit. Stiles watched Derek catch sight of the dark ball hurling towards too late. He immediately held his spear up in a defensive pose. An unbidden cry fell out of his lips when Stiles saw the ball connect with Derek’s spear. The weapon cracked, splintering as Derek flew back. There was no holding his body back that time. 

Stiles moved towards where Derek had fallen but Gerard lunged towards him. With a curse, he twisted his body to avoid getting hit. It was only dumb luck that had him missing Gerard’s claws by inches. Stumbling backwards, Stiles bit down a snarl of his own as Gerard taunted, “No so fast. You and I have unfinished business to attend to.”

He could see Derek pushing himself up, kneeling as he pressed a hand against his chest. He was too far to tell if Derek was hurt or not. Allison was engaging Kate in hand-to-hand, fists and words flying as they fought. Reminding himself that he couldn’t afford to be distracted, Stiles forced his eyes away and stared Gerard down. He had to trust in Derek and Allison to do their part. Same way they were trusting him to do his. 

Jutting his chin up in a clear challenge, Stiles snarked, “I don’t think it’ll take that long. Werewolf or not, you’re still an old man and I’m going to wipe the floor with you.” 

When in doubt, fall back on false bravado right? Especially when he still hadn’t figured out how he going to knock Gerard out long enough to put the plan in motion. When his fingers curled around the oil bottled, an idea flashed in Stiles’ head. _ ‘Wait. Maybe that’s it.’ _ He could literally try to knock Gerard out with a strong enough gust of wind. If he aimed it right, and put enough force into it, he could probably send Gerard crashed into the stone bench. That _ had _ to be strong enough to incapacitate a super strong alpha werewolf long enough for him to get his plan going.

It was a good a plan as any. Swallowing through his dry throat, he taunted the werewolf, “Come and get me.” 

With a roar, Gerard lunged forward. Stiles’ finger dipped into the bottle, drew the symbol as he dodged a swipe and directed the gust of air at Gerard. But he dodged it easily. 

They swiftly fell into a holding pattern - Gerard charged, Stiles dodged and shot back, which Gerard would easily avoid and try to charge again. A few dark balls and bolts flew between them, reminding them that they weren’t alone. Offhandedly Stiles was amazed at the fight Kate was putting up. He regretted the break in concentration immediately because it resulted in Gerard’s claws raking too close to his stomach for comfort.

His finger itched to touch the new tears in his shirt and check for blood but Stiles knew he couldn’t afford another distraction. He was growing tired of dodging attacks while trying to hit Gerard at the same time. Sweat was dripping down his face and body, making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his back. His legs were shaking - part nerves and part adrenaline. The wound under the bandage itched terribly. The bottle of oil was almost spent. Stiles knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer. It was time to stop playing defense.

So the next time Gerard charged his way, Stiles held his ground. He dug his heels into the ground and ducked Gerard’s claws, feeling them split the air over his head and slammed his hand into the werewolf’s chest, channeling as much of his remaining power through his hand and into the rune etched into his skin. Light glowed under his palm for a second. The force that resonated out of the rune made Stiles stagger back. But vicious glee filled him when he saw Gerard flying through the air in a clean arc. 

His triumphant cry turned into a dismayed, annoyed one when the werewolf managed to flip mid-air and landed on both feet. Looking smug as hell at Stiles.

“Oh come _ on _!” Stiles shouted in annoyance, sending a small but hot ball of fire at the werewolf out of spite. 

_ One _ stupid break! That’s all Stiles wanted! Just one damn rune to hit! Was that too much to ask for? Apparently it was. 

Cursing, he was ready to will another fire ball into life when something cracked into his back. A sticky, burning sensation immediately crawled over his back, forcing him to fall forward. He heard Derek and Allison’s voice turn into one as they shouted his name in blind panic. Stiles writhed on the ground, shouting as his hands clutching huge handfuls of grass. Pain sunk its claws into his skin and dragged. It was like being stabbed with thousands of small, sharp, _ burning _ knives. It felt like his skin was being peeled off inch by slow inch. It felt like his every nerve ending was being ripped apart. Dark energy dripped down his sides and into the ground, causing the green grass to hiss, turn black and wither away. A few drops rolled down his arm and into the stained bandage wrapped there. The slick energy ate through the bandage like it was nothing and connected with his healing skin. A fresh scream tore out of his throat. His hands frantically tore the bandage off and pulled handfuls of wet dirt out and rub it over the reddening skin. 

Cool relief filled him immediately. Stiles immediately threw himself back, doing the stop, drop, and roll until he felt the last of the dark spell rubbing off him. _ ‘Shit _ ,’ Stiles panted, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth, ‘ _ What the hell was that spell?’ _

His body trembled as he tried to get back up. But Stiles felt too weak. His limbs felt like they were made of lead. Stiles had managed to get himself up on all fours when he felt a large hand grab him by the back of his neck. And pulled him up. Stiles’ legs kicked out immediately but hit nothing but air. Not that he thought his weak kicks would do anything against anyone right now. Stiles doubted he’d be able to take on a _ child _ in that moment. 

“Feisty!” Gerard chuckled, “Most people can’t move after being hit by that spell. And you’re still fighting. You’ve got a lot more pluck than I gave you credit for Stiles.” 

Gerard’s grip tightened painfully, causing Stiles’ next words to come out low and wheezy, “Screw you.”

Gerard’s demonic visage grinned up at him, like holding Stiles up with one hand was as easy as holding a feather up, “I want to look. Watch your friends fight and die for your useless cause.”

Several more curses came to mind and Stiles let them be born into the world. But Gerard laughed them off. It caused the flicker of anger turn into heated rage. It gave Stiles the strength he needed to start struggling anew. With a snarl, Stiles attempted to kick Gerard but his actions made the werewolf pull him down and shake Stiles like a disobedient puppy.

“Watch yourself!” Gerard snarled at him, spit flying out and hitting Stiles’ face, “Or I’ll break your arms.”

“Bite me,” Stiles bit out before smacking his palm on Gerard’s face. The air rune had nearly faded away on the back of his hand. 

Typically he couldn’t use it more than four times before having to refresh the lines. And he’d already shot _ five _ blasts at Gerard. Stiles _ knew _ he was pushing his luck but so far, the birch oil had exceeded all his expectations. He prayed it would do so again. He channeled his magic through his arm, grinning when he saw his new triskelion tattoo start to glow against his burnt skin. The black tattoo burned a brilliant, pure white, just like the rune on his hand. 

There was a second where Gerard’s surprised red eyes ticked to the light before he was shooting back, straight through the heavy stone bench. Stiles fell down on his feet but his ankle twisted as his weight landed on it. 

Crying out in pain, Stiles rolled onto his side, free hand clutching the throbbing point, “Son of a _ bitch _!”

Of all the damned times to sprain his ankle! Stiles grit his teeth and peeked up at where Gerard had fallen. The man wasn’t moving. With a relieved groan, Stiles pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling forward towards the werewolf as he pulled out the bottle he’d hidden away for this moment. As soon as he was within earshot, Stiles slowed down. Gerard might be playing possum. Stiles kicked a few stones at the man before kneeling down. 

Ignoring rocks biting into his knees, Stiles slapped Gerard’s face a couple of times but there was no response. With a sigh of relief, Stiles immediately and carefully thumbed the stopper off the bottle he’d been holding onto for dear life. The thick blood inside the bottle sloshed against the rim as Stiles used his free hand to tear Gerard’s shirt further open to reveal more skin. Once Gerard’s chest was exposed, Stiles pushed a finger into the vial until it was covered in blood and used the slick digit together to smear a pattern over Gerard’s heart - one spiral, connected to another, connected to another. 

Surprisingly steady hands dipped repeatedly in the small amount of blood Laura had given him, using it to draw a crude but bold triskelion into Gerard’s skin. Stiles saw the few points where the blood was too thin, causing a break in the pattern. That wouldn’t do. The symbol had to be connected perfectly for this to work. Stiles had two spots to fill when Gerard groaned underneath his hand. 

“Shit, shit, _ shit _.” Stiles cursed, entire body starting to shake as the werewolf began to stir. Somehow Stiles managed to solidify the few patchy lines before Gerard was fully conscious. There was a single one left when the werewolf’s eyes began to flutter. Stiles tipped the last of the blood over his hand, hurriedly pressed his thumb over the final patch right as Gerard’s eyes began to open.

He met Gerard’s confused gaze, feeling wild eyed and unspeakably powerful as he snarled, “You want power? Eat this!” 

Stiles pressed his clean hand onto the bloody triskelion and concentrated on his mana. That warm liquidy feeling that was always present at the back of his mind, allowing him to do his magic. He focused, imagined his mana contained in a giant bucket which he tipped into a funnel that led down his hand, through the triskelion, and into Gerard. But that wasn’t all. Stiles searched deeper, further back. He used the triskelion tattoo that Marin had given him to tap into the collective energy and power of the Hale pack. The same energy that he’d been forcing himself to avoid using until this very moment. 

All the warnings Marin had given him as she’d used the pungent ink, herbs and blood combination to tattoo a small triskelion into Stiles’ wrist, flew through his head. She’d warned him about the pull the power might have on him. Too much power was always a temptation. But more importantly, she’d warned him not to push too much of his _ own _ magic into Gerard. Thankfully, Stiles could make out the dividing line between his own magic and the Hale pack magic flowing through him. It was exactly like the sight of two different colored rivers merging into a larger body of water. 

But drawing on one particular ‘stream’ instead of the collective was difficult. Far more difficult than Marin had let on. So much for ‘Just concentrate on the pack. That will help. The more you think about the pack, the more you’ll draw on their power’ advice she’d given him. From far away Stiles realized he was gasping, chest heaving as he gulped in huge lungful’s of air. Cold sweat had broken over his body. The edges of his vision were growing dark as Gerard roared underneath him. 

Two hot hands slammed into his body, shoving him off Gerard. The hasty push made Stiles tip over, groaning as he fell back on the broken remains of the bench. Hurt zinged up and down his spine, causing the darkness to turn into small, black spots that danced in front of his eyes.

Distantly, Stiles heard Gerard shout, “What did you do to me?”

Stiles’ vision swam as he turned his heavy head to look at Gerard. Gerard’s face had returned to its human visage. He looked horrified as he stared at the symbol on his chest and the flush rising from it. The fever-like flush darkened and spread, growing an angry shade of red as Gerard began to claw his own skin, howling in apparent agony. From somewhere nearby he heard a woman’s angry shrieks joining the werewolf’s painful writhing. Probably Kate, Stiles thought with a hard blink. The darkness was starting to recede and Kate’s screams intensified as Gerard fell to his knees. 

The old man’s frantic, red rimmed eyes locked onto Stiles, who had managed to push himself up into a seated position. Rage overtook fear in that moment when Gerard choked out, “What...did you do to me?”

“Overloaded your magic,” Stiles’ felt like his vocal chords had changed into sandpaper, and were painfully rubbing together with every word. 

Stiles crawled back, using his hands and heels to push himself away from Gerard as he tried to rub the bloody triskelion off his chest but it was too little too late. There was already too much magical energy inside of Gerard and soon enough, his body would give up. Unable to process the excess amount of power. He reached inside himself to check on his own reserves. Mild irritation filled Stiles when he realized he’s siphoned too much of his own magic into Gerard. The only time he’d let his mana get this low was when he was a teenager and testing his limits. He was well past the danger line. 

But when he saw Gerard’s eyes grow wide in horror, he felt a grim satisfaction settle in. So what if he’d come close to draining himself dry? He’d gotten the job done. He’d taken care of Gerard. 

Gerard’s red face went slack. His eyes grew distant and blank as his body tipped to the side. The heavy thud of Gerard’s body falling made Stiles vision swim. Strange. He didn’t think Gerard was heavy enough to make such a loud thump. Stiles stared at Gerard’s shaking and twitching body, feeling a chill run through him as he saw first-hand what happened when you overloaded your magic energy store. It was an ugly as the texts described it.

Distantly he could still hear Kate screaming, but it was coming through a fog. From miles and miles away. Stiles’ attention was locked on Gerard. On the foam gathering on the edges of his mouth. The thick liquid that began to ooze out of his orifices. On the sudden manner in which red skin turned to gray and then to literal ash. Stiles let out a shaky exhale as Gerard’s body collapsed into itself.

It was over.

As the adrenaline began to seep away, the fatigue of what he’d gone through began to creep in. Dizziness and weakness wrapped around him, causing his arms to give out. Stiles stared blearily up into the sky, breathing through his mouth as he wondered why the bright dots were dancing in front of him. Were they stars? No, it couldn’t be. It was day time. He felt light as a feather, floating on top of a giant body of water far, far away from the rest of the world. And from the shoreline, someone was calling out his name. But he couldn’t find the energy to shout back, or turn his head.

Stiles closed his eyes and hummed, exhaling when he heard someone pounding a strange rhythm on their drums. Drums that were coming closer and closer.

“Stiles?” Allison worriedly called out from the shore line, “Stiles! Are you okay?”

“We need to get him to a healer.” Another voice said. 

Derek, Stiles tried to smile. He didn’t need a healer. 

He just needed sleep.

Yes.

Sleep sounded good.

With a quiet exhale, Stiles gave himself up to the numb feeling that had taken hold of him and the darkness that followed.

* * *

Derek stood in the doorway for a few seconds, waiting for Danny to notice him but the human’s head remained bowed over the heavy book in his lap. Danny sat in an armchair next to Stiles’ bed, one foot tucked under him, reading as Stiles slept. Danny raised a hand up, distractedly scratching his cheek an inch away from a yellowing bruise before dropping down on the cast wrapped around his second arm. He looked better than last Derek had seen him, which had been four whole days ago, the night they’d defeated Gerard.

Everyone had been in terrible shape that night. (It could be argued they were _ still _in bad shape now). No one had come out of the fight unscathed. Not a single person in the city. But they had at least been victorious; they’d won their city back. They’d lost more people in the last fight but once the humans had realized that Gerard had been defeated, and Kate incapacitated, the few remaining humans had been quick to drop their arms and surrender, begging for mercy. 

Money, it seemed, wasn’t as great a motivator as the Argents had hoped. Emissaries had moved in to take command over the hostages immediately, moving them to a more secure location while the rest of the city dwellers took stock of the damage done before starting the repair work. After four days, the city was finally starting to look like a town again. Laura and the new Council had quickly divvied work out for the survivors, asking everyone to pull their weight and do their best. 

The first order of business had been to clear the streets, and to deal with the dead. The latter job had included pulling bodies out of any and all burnt homes. It’s what most of the town’s people had been doing. It was ugly work that had made Derek’s throat close up. He kept count of the bodies as they pulled them out of the wreckage, whispering their names before praying to the moon goddess to keep them safe. It was hard work but Derek would rather be doing that than have Laura’s job.

The new Council had been butting heads for four days now, arguing heatedly about how they were going to deal with the few human survivors. In particular, Kate Argent. Many of them were insisting that Kate Argent should be dealt with in the most harshest manner possible. That the most suitable punishment would be one where Kate’s humanity should be stripped away from her. Or that incredible pain be inflicted on her. A fate worse than death is what the Council and the city wanted.

Except Laura it seemed. Every day Laura’s scowl lines grew deeper and deeper, her eyes flashing angrily whenever anyone would ask how the meeting went. Derek did not envy her position. The very notion of spending hours on end sitting with a bunch of other new alphas, tempers and emotions running high as they debated over how they were going to move on from this tragedy made Derek’s head ache. 

The people who had succeeded the old Council were all heirs to the titles but, they had never worked together in the way they were forced to now. Derek supposed it was only natural they were fighting so hard right now. Soon enough, things would settle down, and everything would return to normal. And life would go on.

Just like it had before.

Derek shook his head, coming back into the present. He gently rapped his knuckles against the door frame, shoving his dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Danny lifted his head, smiling when he saw Derek standing in the doorway. 

“How are you feeling today?” Derek asked as he stepped into the room.

“Better. Whatever was in that healing brew that emissary gave me has been doing its magic.” Danny pointed at his face with his injured hand, “Four days and they’re almost gone. They said it should also help my arm heal faster.”

Nodding, Derek came to a stop on the other side of Stiles’ bed. He stood there, watching the slow rise and fall of Stiles’ chest. 

“Asleep,” Derek sighed, trying not to feel too disappointed or annoyed as he pulled up a second chair. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d swear Stiles was doing this on purpose. Every time he’d come to visit, Stiles would be fast asleep. But when Derek wasn’t around? Stiles would have brief moments of consciousness. Yesterday he’d even woken up long enough to exchange a couple of sentences with Allison. 

It had been four days and Derek had yet to see the dark warmth of Stiles’ eyes, or his clever smile. And since then, Derek craved reassurance that Stiles was okay. That Stiles hadn’t pushed himself beyond the limit while taking Gerard out. Derek ran a tired hand over his face, the image of Stiles’ eyes rolling back in his head flashing through his mind. 

“He stayed up for almost half an hour around lunch,” Danny thankfully interrupted the memory, “But as soon as he was done eating, he was back under. He’s still pretty weak.”

Derek nodded, reaching forward to take hold of Stiles’ hand. It was blessedly warm, a stark contrast to how cold it had been when Derek had picked him up and raced off to find Deaton. He pressed his lips together and forced himself not to think about that horrible day. He’d been rocked to the core when Deaton had told him how close Stiles had come to dying; the aftershocks of that kept hitting Derek. But he’d managed to bring Stiles to Deaton in time for the emissary to reverse the ill-effects of the magic drainage. 

Derek noted the tiny frown line in between Stiles’ eyebrows, the color in his cheeks, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. And told himself that Stiles was well on his way to recovery. And that he should take heart from it, even if he hadn’t managed to see Stiles awake for himself.

“Is he taking the brews Marin and Deaton made for him?” Derek asked, raising his eyes away from Stiles resting form.

Danny gestured at the small glass bottles sitting on the small table next to the bed. A handful of them were empty, but twice as many pear shaped bottles were still full. Half the bottles were filled with a purple liquid, and the other had a silvery tint to them. 

“Twice a day. He complained about their taste today,” Danny shook his head, smirking, “Said they tasted worse than pea soup. I think that’s a good sign that he’s getting better.”

He couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh quietly. That sounded like Stiles alright.

“’s not funny. Pea soup sucks.” Stiles suddenly croaked, making the other two men jump in their seats.

Derek immediately leaned in, squeezing Stiles’ hand harder when he saw Stiles’ eyes were open and peering up at him. Stiles looked like he could use a few more days of sleep. Perhaps another week. But even with his tired eyes and dark circles, Derek thought Stiles was the most handsome man he knew. Not to mention the bravest. 

“You’re finally awake.” Derek breathed out in relief, feeling the tension that had been haunting for days finally lift off his shoulders.

Stiles’ nose scrunched immediately, his eyes narrowing as he paused mid-way scooching up the bed. 

“You mean, _ you’re _ finally _ here _ when I’m awake. I was worried you were avoiding me.”

With a quick shake of his head, Derek smiled and answered back, “I could say the same about you.” 

Snorting, Stiles squeezed his hand back. A sharp snap made them both look at Danny, who had closed his book and was getting up to his feet. “I’m going to go get something to eat. And ask someone to send something up for you Stiles.” 

Derek shot Danny a grateful look, nodding his thanks. Danny nodded back with a same, which quickly turned into a playfully stern look directed Stiles’ way. “You better eat all your food this time, _ without _ any complaining.”

“Not if its pea soup.”

Danny rolled his eyes to the ceiling before retorting, “Even if its pea soup.” 

Turning on his heel, Danny walked out of the room before Stiles could formulate another reply. And missed the tongue Stiles stuck out at his back as a childish retort. Derek ducked his head to hide his laugh, feeling more and more relieved as the seconds ticked past. He looked up as the door clicked close, good humor evaporating when he caught the pensive look Stiles was giving him. 

“I really thought you were avoiding me.” Stiles murmured, free hand drawing circles into the sheets.

Gentling his grip and voice, Derek asked, “Why would I do that?” 

Shrugging, Stiles’ demurely lowered his eyes, watching his finger trace the flower pattern stitched into the cloth, “Dunno. Thought you might be mad at me for overdoing it. That maybe you were…I dunno. Trying to prove a point.”

“I was _ worried _ about you. Not mad.” Derek corrected him, staring down at the hand he was still holding onto, “You were so cold when I got to you... I was so scared you’d poured too much of your magic into Gerard. That you didn’t have any left for yourself. Deaton said if you had given him even a little bit more, you wouldn’t have made it.”

With a weak little chuckle, Stiles replied, “I’ve got a bad habit of pushing limits.”

He gave Stiles an unamused look. It was far too soon to be making jokes like that. Stiles quickly picked up on that and looked back down repentantly. An awkward silence stretched between them, making Derek wonder what he could say to break the ice. Worry eventually overtook all over emotions. “How _ are _ you feeling?” He asked, eyes raking over Stiles’ figure, wondering how his cuts and bruises were healing. 

A discreet sniff told Derek at least Stiles wasn’t bleeding. The scent of poultice and magic had mixed into the coppery scent of blood the first day, and lingering long into the second day. But the blood didn't smell fresh. Underneath its smell, Stiles smelled a little like his former self but mostly? He smelled like pack. Derek assumed it was a result of spending days tucked away in the Hale House, surrounded by his friends and Derek’s pack members. 

There was a sweet top note to Stiles’ scent when he smiled and answered, “Better. I don’t feel like I’m gonna pass out anymore. I guess all those awful tasting brews and stuff’ve worked their magic. What about you? What’s been going on on the outside?”

“The others haven’t told you?” He blinked in surprise. Derek thought the others would have given Stiles quick updates whenever he’d woken up.

Stiles shrugged, shoulders pressing deeper into his pillow, “More or less. Scott keeps trying to tell me but I kept falling asleep. But I want to know the latest news from you.”

After a long look at Stiles, Derek exhaled. Where should he begin... He supposed Stiles would like to know about the crew he’d been with. And Kate’s fate.

“The Council still isn’t sure what to do with Kate.” He begins, pausing a moment when he sees Stiles wriggling into a more comfortable position, fingers still holding onto Derek’s hand, “They’ve decided they’re going to send the other humans out of the city without any rations, but because Kate was one of the leaders, they need to pick a harsher punishment for her. Laura’s trying to convince the Council they need to strip Kate of her magic and kill her. Blood for blood, you know? But the rest of the Council are worried it’s letting her off too easy. That the towns people are going to demand something… more.”

Stiles’ eyes lowered thoughtfully. He expected Stiles to comment on that but Stiles was uncharacteristically silent. Derek wondered what Stiles was thinking about. Was he thinking about the surviving soldier’s chances of survival without any gear to help them? Or was he wondering what could constitute as a good enough punishment for Kate Argent? When Stiles didn’t speak up for a whole minute, Derek continued.

“As for the city…We’re still trying to clean everything up. We didn’t realize how _ many _homes had been burned down. How many people we’d lost. We had a little cemetery out in the woods but Laura convinced everyone else that all the people who died should be buried where we buried our mom. Maybe ask the forest nymphs to help raise a special tree there as a memorial.”

Derek went on, talking about how people’s lives were starting to return to normal, how Scott and the others were pitching in as well. He spoke of the many shops that were open for business again, desperate to return to normalcy. Like the café, the bookshop, Jacob’s weapon store, the flower shop, the apothecary.

Stiles snorted and waved a weak hand, “Already know all _ that _. You don’t really have new news do you? Besides the Kate thing?”

He conceded to Stiles with a small nod, smiling faintly, “As soon as I’m done, I come straight to your room. Same thing I’ve been doing for days. And Laura isn’t home yet.” 

“Don’t you talk with the people you’re working with? You’ve been helping get the city back on its feet, right? So you _ gotta _ be working with other people. Don’t you do small talk with them? Exchange gossip? I mean,” Stiles bemoaned, “People _ have _ to be talking about this, right?” Derek shrugged helplessly. He’d never been one to indulge in gossip or small talk. Stiles huffed, crossing his free arm across his chest when Derek didn’t answer, “Okay, fine. I’ll ask some questions then. Tell me about Erica and Boyd. How they doing?”

“Fine,” Derek answered, “They both were shot, but they’re okay now.”

“Well don’t go into so much detail, Derek,” Stiles rolled his eyes in exasperation, “I’m having trouble keeping up.”

Derek rolled his eyes back but the move was softened by the smile that appeared on his face, “It’s nice to know you’re feeling up to making sarcastic remarks.”

Stiles preened visibly, lips turning high up in a smug smile, “It’s my most endearing trait.”

“Not your _ most _ endearing.” Derek answered quietly, enjoying the startled expression that flashed over Stiles’ face before he looked down, smile turned bashful. 

He watched Stiles rub the bridge of his nose, run a self-conscious hand through his hair before muttering, “Wasn’t expecting that, jeez.” 

When Stiles looked back up, his smile was shy but warm. Derek found himself relaxing, the tension seeping out of him the longer they held eye contact. It was easier to talk after that. His words, while softly spoken, flowed steadily. Derek talked about Boyd and Erica - how they’d both been shot while fighting but thankfully hadn’t been critically injured, how Erica kept trying to sneak out of her bed to see Boyd and how the healers kept finding her within minutes. He smiled when Stile laughed and thenjumped out of his seat when Stiles’ laughter turned into pained groans.

“‘m okay, ‘m okay,” Stiles waved him back down in his seat, “Ribs ‘r still sore. Keep talking. Tell me more. Any other interesting thing happen while I was passed out?”

Derek sat back down after noting Stiles’ steady heartbeat. He thought about Stiles’ question and remembered something worth sharing, “Actually, we found a human trying to escape the city. He was one of Argent’s people. Had a camera.”

“Camera?” Stiles interrupted, gaze sharpening, “Was his name Matt? 

After Derek nodded, Stiles asked, “And he was trying to run away? How’d _ that _happen? I thought you caught all the people after we won the fight against Gerard and Kate? How’d he manage to run away?” 

Derek quickly explained how the human had tried to strike a bargain with his captors, ready to explain his role in the attack in exchange for his life. His life in exchange for information. But when that hadn’t worked out, he’d killed the werewolves who’d come to capture him, including the two soldiers with him, and hid.

“He’d scouted the city out before. Taken lots of pictures and made maps. He found a couple of places to hide while doing that. But him and his friends could hide so long before they were found out.”

“Makes sense,” Stiles glanced out the window for a second before looking back, “I’m guessing you’ve got him locked up with the rest of Gerard’s goons right?” 

Derek paused and shook his head, “Couldn’t risk it.”

“How come?”

“As soon as he was caught, he tried to weasel his way out. Said he’d tell them whatever they wanted to know if they’d let him live. He didn’t realize he’d agreed to selling his friends out in front of them.”

Understanding filled Stiles’ eyes, making him nod slowly, “So you put him up somewhere else to stop the rest of the soldiers from hurting Matt.”

“Couldn’t be too careful,” Derek agreed.

“He’s going to get the same punishment as the others then?”

“Maybe worse. The Council hasn’t decided on his fate yet.”

Stiles’ grim expression turned towards the far window again. Derek’s eyes went from the stern line of Stiles’ lips to his furrowed brow and wondered what he was thinking. He got his answer after a long silent moment.

“What are the chances they can survive out there without any supplies?”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Derek answered, “Not good. They’ll probably die of exposure during the first night. And if they survive the night... The mountain people will take care of the rest.”

Stiles’ Adam’s apple bobbed with his hard swallow. Derek stared at Stiles’ jaw, at the muscles that twitched there as Stiles ground his teeth together. 

“How many people died?” Stiles asked, voice tight and hoarse, “In the city, I mean.” 

Derek felt his throat go dry almost immediately, “We’re still counting,” Every word felt heavier than lead as they passed through his lips, “There’s still a lot of buildings we need to clean up and there’s bodies under there. But. So far? There’s more than a 100 dead.”

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment before asking again, in the same tight voice, “And how many injured?”

Derek pulled his hand scrubbing his palm over his face in a haggard motion before he answered, “Twice as many.” 

He saw Stiles’ face fall as they were so longer holding hands but Derek… couldn’t. He had to clasp his hands together, press the tips of his claws into his skin and let the pain ground him. “At least there were a lot of people who managed to make it out to the forest safely. Mostly kids. They’re the only people who weren’t hurt, thankfully. Around 300 of them.”

Stiles sighed, eyes closing briefly as he visible relief passed over his face, “That’s good. Real good.” 

He ran a hand across his face before sighing again. The hand stayed across his eyes, hiding his gaze from Derek’s for several long minutes. And when Stiles raised his hand, the guilt in his eyes when he turned to look at Derek was staggering. “Derek, I’m so-”

“Don’t,” Derek cut him off firmly, “Don’t apologize. You didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“I feel like I should have,” Stiles wrung his hands together, squeezing them so tight his knuckles turned white, “Just the way Gerard seemed so hell bent on finding this place, and how they talked about werewolves. I _ knew _ something was wrong but I was so caught up in wanting to find this place that I didn’t stop to think that...” 

Derek reached out to grab Stiles hand again. His fingers curled over Stiles’ linked fingers and squeezed. Stiles’ wide eyes flew up to meet his, shocked and pained.

“Stiles. You _ didn’t _ know,” Derek echoed the words that his mother and family had said to him in the years following Paige’s death, “Don’t blame yourself for something you _ couldn’t _ have seen coming. _ No one _ could have anticipated this.”

If there was anyone who could understand Stiles’ desire to take responsibility and blame himself for what had happened, it was Derek. Stiles broke their gaze and looked away, guilt heavy in his eyes. Derek didn’t say anything else. He understood Stiles’ position completely, and knew that his words would be nothing but a cold comfort. It was a realization that Stiles would gradually arrive at. So he squeezed Stiles’ hands tight, hoping it would convey his comfort and understanding. It was a gratifying moment when Stiles eventually looked up and gave him a sad little smile. Derek smiled back, just as small but twice as warm. His smile grew when Stiles pulled one hand free and dropped it down on top of Derek’s. 

Stiles’ attempts to collect himself were apparent. He closed his eyes and did a few breathing exercises before letting out an extra-long exhale. When he opened his eyes again, he was visibly calmer. “So, here’s something I was wondering,” Stiles began in a forcibly lighter tone, “I saw you fighting Kate with a spear. You looked like you knew how to use it.”

“That’s because I do,” Stiles’ eyes flew open in surprise, making Derek smirk in amusement, “Is it that strange?”

With a pointed look at Derek’s claws, Stiles replied, with heavy emphasis, “_ Yes _! You’ve already got claws and super strength! What did you need to learn how to... twirl a spear around for? What other hidden talents do you have? What other weapons can you use?”

The eagerness in Stiles questions made Derek break down in light chuckles, “I was a _ knight _in Old Ireland. Of course I knew how to use a spear! And a sword and some other weapons.”

“Were you any good?” Stiles asked, eyes sparkling. 

Derek tilted his head in consideration, “I was decent with a sword but I was best with a spear.” He gave Stiles a stern look, who already had a wicked gleam in his eyes, “Don’t even _ think _ about making an innuendo about that. I’ve heard them all.” 

He honestly _ had _. A group of men training together with long spears, day in, day out for months? You were bound to hear every joke under the sun about handling ‘spears’.

Almost immediately, Stiles shot him a mortally offended look, “I _ wouldn’t _ .” Derek gave him a look of his own, not believing Stiles one _ bit _ . “Okay, I wouldn’t right _ now _.” Stiles conceded in a low grumble, “Just for that, I’m gonna think up of a spear joke you’ve never heard of before. You’ve been here for what? Hundreds of years? I’m sure I can think of a good enough joke.”

“Feel free to try,” Derek said, right as someone knocked on the door. He focused on the person standing outside the door, heard the quiet rattle of cutlery on a wooden tray as Allison cursed under her breath about the weight of the tray. On the other side of the door, Scott immediately asked to take the tray from her but she quickly declined. 

“Your friends are here with your food,” Derek announced, getting up to his feet.

“This room isn’t sound proofed like the others?” Stiles asked in wonder.

As he got up to get the door, Derek answered, “No. This room is specifically for anyone ill or hurt. This way we can keep an ear out.”

“That makes sense,” With a groan, Stiles slipped under the blankets a few inches, “Man, I can’t _ wait _ ‘till I’m better enough to sit at a table to eat. I didn’t think it was possible to get tired of breakfast in bed but I am. I want to get up and walk around again. Help out where I can.”

Derek stood with his hand on the doorknob and looked back at Stiles. Derek couldn’t put his finger on it but… Stiles suddenly looked far younger than he was. Strange how someone so tall could look so _ small _while lying in bed. The sight of Stiles looking so put out made Derek wish he hadn’t gotten up. That way he’d remained seated so that he could have comforted Stiles with a touch or more.

With the whole room between them, and Stiles’ friends standing on the other side of the door, Derek quietly answered, “I hope you get back on your feet soon too. I miss... you.”

They were just three small words but the confession was a heavy one. Derek nearly stumbled over it as well, realizing a little too late he might be revealing too much to Stiles. The feeling of naked vulnerability only heightened when Stiles stared at him, mouth slowly falling open. 

“I...” Stiles cleared his throat and swallowed, correcting his hoarse voice before trying again, “I miss you too.”

On the other side of the door, Scott knocked again, “Derek? That you in there? Can you open up? We got Stiles’ some food.”

His hand tightened around the doorknob, eyes locked with Stiles’. The tentative hope Derek saw there made the weight on his chest rise. It felt like the sweetest release. It made him smile before turning his wrist to open the door. “I’ll come by later tomorrow. Same time?”

“I’d love that.” Stiles smiled back, warm and sweet.

* * *

Barely a day after the attack, Derek had suggested their group move into the Hale house. With Stiles recuperating there and the rest of their crew being held captive, the others were quick to take Derek up on his offer. After he’d woken up, Allison had told Stiles this and then broken the bad news. Deaton had advised strict bed rest for Stiles – at least a week. Stiles had yelled one sentence about the injustice of it all before falling back in bed feeling drained.

“_ That’s _what the bed rest is for,” Lydia had chided him primly.

Stiles had glared at her and gestured at her to pass a book. If he was going to be stuck in bed then he’d make the most of it. And generally speaking? It wasn’t _ that _ bad. It was like a 7 on a scale of 10 of annoying experiences. While Stiles enjoyed a good lie in every weekend, being told he had to stay in bed for a week after waking up because he was still too weak to do anything more than walk a couple of feet to the bathroom was too much for him to handle. And even _ that _ short trip had to be done with someone’s help. Which Stiles didn’t think was entirely necessary if he was honest. Just because he’d gotten dizzy that _ one time _ and crashed into that side table _ once _, didn’t mean he needed someone holding him up as he shuffled from the bed to the toilet.

Anyways. Point was that he _ hated _the experience. Sure he had company, sure he had books to read, but being stuck in the same room from dawn to dusk was driving him batty. There were two things that kept him from going batty thanks to being stuck in one room for days on end: the fact that his friends, old and new, stopped by to check on him and talk with him, and Derek’s visits. 

The man had shown up every day before sunset to visit Stiles. After the first time, Stiles had demanded Derek help him up and out the door because Stiles _ needed _ to get out of the room. He had a stubborn streak a mile wide and wanted to prove that he didn’t need any bed rest, so sue him. Derek had made lots of concerned noises but had helped Stiles a couple of feet out into the hallway before Stiles had asked to been taken back. He hadn’t realized just _ how _weak he was after having pushed himself the way he did. But Stiles took heart in the fact that in one day he’d managing from a slow shuffle from the bed to the bathroom to a slow and wobbly walk from the bed to out of his room. It hadn’t been a lot but progress was progress, even if it was minimal. In the days that followed, Stiles went from being on his feet for a couple of minutes to a full hour. Getting down the stairs by his own will took him four days but Stiles was taking a long, slow walk around the Hale’s backyard on the third day (Derek had helped him down the stairs).

It came as no surprise to anyone when Stiles declared that his daily meeting with Derek was the highlight of his day. And how could it not be? It was an hour or two of them hanging out – sometimes talking, sometimes just holding each other’s hands, and sometimes just sitting together, relaxing and making out a little bit. Stiles would swear up and down that Derek’s visits were biggest reason for his rapidly improving health. Derek rolled his eyes every time, ducking his head to hide his smile while Lydia dryly asked what role Marin’s brews had in the same matter. Stiles would glibly change the topic. Usually to the sights he’d seen during his walk with Derek. 

Fourteen days after the attack, the Council passed judgement on Kate Argent and the captured human soldiers. Laura made the announcement at the dinner table, holding everyone’s eye as she spoke in a tightly controlled voice. The magic users were going to be stripped of their magic in the most painful way possible before being sent out of the city without any rations. Kate, Stiles saw Allison’s body stiffen as Laura continued in her low, carefully even tone, was going to have her magic stripped from her as well, before being publicly executed. The sentence was to be carried out the very next day. 

Laura had gently asked Allison if she wanted to see Kate before the next morning but had refused with a jerky shake. |Thank you but… no.” Allison held onto Scott’s hands with a death grip, knuckles white, “I don’t want too. We don’t have to be there tomorrow, do we?”

Shaking her head, Laura had advised, “Best not too. It’ll be better if you stay here. Even though everyone knows that you helped, the atmosphere…”

“Say no more,” Stiles said, barely hiding his relief. He wouldn’t have wanted to go in the first place, “We’ll hold down the fort.”

The next day had dawned cool and damp. Stiles had woken up feeling chilly even underneath his small pile of blankets. He’d shuffled over to the window and watched the mist roll over the city and into the forest surrounding it as the sun crept up. The weather set the mood for the rest of the day. Breakfast had been a sober affair with everyone keeping their voices low as they ate and talked. Laura’s seat remained empty during the meal. Apparently she’d left the house before dawn to meet up with her tailor to finish up the final touches on a dress.

“Dress?” Allison had immediately asked, equal parts confused and curious.

“It’s for the…” Cora pulled a face before turning to Isaac, “how do you translate it?”

“Coming of age? Passing? I dunno…” With a shrug, Isaac answered Stiles’ question, “It’s a ceremony we have where the next in line accepts their role as the leader. It’s kind of a formal event that you need to dress up for. Once all of… _ this _ is done, we’re going to have that ceremony to make the new Council official.”

Erica nudged Boyd’s elbow, “You gonna sign up to help get the town hall set up for the party?”

“Party?” Stiles immediately asked.

Nodding, Erica explained how after the ceremony it was tradition to celebrate and given that there was a whole new Council it was going to be one hell of a party. Her expression quickly turned pensive. “Maybe not that big this time all things considered..”

The conversation ground to a halt after that, with everyone quietly finishing their meals before getting up. Before he left, Derek pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and told him Deaton had given him a new set of scrolls and records, “I left them in the main study.”

“Awesome. Those’ll keep Lydia and me busy till you guys come back,” Stiles had smiled up at the werewolf.

Once the pack had left, including the cook and maids, their small group went upstairs to the study. Lydia and Stiles immediately made for the small stack of books and scroll cases lying on the main desk. Allison and Scott split up as they searched out a book to read. Danny went to the table by the window that he’d commandeered days ago. It was littered with all kinds of tech, circuit boards, soldering iron, black grid paper, and green chalk. He’d been trying to figure out a way to boost the signal of the satellite phone to place a call to the outside but his efforts had been mostly unsuccessful.

For the next few hours, the study was quiet save the sound of turning pages and the quiet humming of Danny’s magic. Stiles paused every so often to watch the beam of sunlight that was pouring in through the window, wondering if Kate was dead yet. Had they stripped the rest of the humans of their magic as well? Would that be a public spectacle too? 

He felt something gently tap against the back of his hand. Stiles looked down to see Lydia’s pencil touching his knuckles. “Do you think this is apples or potatoes?” she asked, turning an aged scroll towards him.

Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise before huffing out a quiet laugh. Pulling the scroll closer to him, Stiles’ eyes read the line that Lydia was indicating before answering, “Apples.”

He watched her nod in satisfaction, like Stiles had passed some kind of test, and go back to translating the scroll. And Stiles smiled, whispering, “Thanks.”

“Just don’t think too hard about it. Focus on the task at hand,” Lydia answered back in the same low voice, pausing a moment before whispering in a lower tone, “Imagine how Allison must be feeling.”

True. Stiles turned a discreet eye towards Allison, and noted that she seemed to be reading her book with immense concentration. So much so that she hadn’t flipped a page for several minutes. She had a hand curled over her bruised ribs and was gently rubbing her side as she stared down at her book. She looked a million miles away – far away from where she was, and far away from the story she was reading. 

“There’s not a lot we can do, can we?” Stiles asked glumly.

Lydia’s face reflected the same emotion before shifting into determination, “But we can be there for her after this.”

Stiles nodded, resolving to himself to spend more time with Allison after… _ after _. They’d all be there for her, be her support system and help her deal with this. That was the best thing they all could do for her in this situation. It was near lunch time when one of the servant boys knocked on the door and asked what they’d like to eat. 

“Anything’s fine,” Scott had answered, stroking Allison’s hair as she dozed on his shoulder.

The boy left and returned within ten minutes with a tray stacked with sandwiches and a jug of water in hand. They ate quickly and quietly, oddly famished despite the fact they hadn’t done anything all day. Stiles asked Danny how his work was coming along and Scott asked Lydia if she’d found anything interesting. Allison picked at a sandwich before returning to the chaise to sleep. Once they were done, Stiles decided to help Danny take the tray and plates down to the kitchen. The kitchen staff had all returned and everyone’s face was drawn tight with unhappiness. And everyone was quiet. Usually there was a lot of friendly chatter and noise going about but today…

In fact, Stiles noted that the whole house remained unnaturally quiet. He sat in the living room with one of Derek’s books, observing the people around him. Erica and Boyd gave him wane smiles before moving on. Cora had slipped up the stairs as quiet as a mouse. Isaac had sighed quietly before following her. He saw Peter come in and head down the hall without a backward glance. And Derek had made a beeline for him and hugged him. He’d stayed there for a long while, content to lean against Stiles as Stiles read his book. But it was hard to focus on the book when all Stiles could think of was how _ wrong _the atmosphere felt. 

It felt as though Talia’s death had finally sunk in for everyone. Stiles wondered if werewolves held wakes for the dead or not. Resolving to ask Deaton at a later date, Stiles went back to reading his book. The dinner table was quiet that night with tired faces around the table. The only person missing from the table was Allison, who had gone to bed early citing a headache. When Scott had told that to the rest of the table, Stiles got the impression the others had wished they’d done the same to avoid their own headaches. 

They all looked beyond weary; something he didn’t think was possible. But all of them looked ready to fall over by one wrong gust of wind. Except Cora, who looked ready to snap anyone’s head off if they dared talk to her or ask her why her eyes were red-rimmed. The quiet was broken by the sound of cutlery clinking against plates, or someone’s occasional attempt at small talk. No conversation lasted longer than a few replies. No one had the heart or energy to do so. The longest conversation Stiles wound up having was with Laura when she’d walked him up to his room, stopping him at the door with a hand on his elbow.

“We found these on Kate when we…” She held out a thin, bound book and a few folded papers out towards him. After Stiles accepted the book, he checked it over before pulling the papers open. 

Laura said, “It’s the missing pages from Argent’s journal plus some more papers about the curse. I think it’s what Gerard wanted you to translate.” 

Stiles’ eyes flew from the paper to Laura’s face and back to the journal pages. Yeah. There was no mistaking Fenris’ writing. One of the words in the top lines had Stiles pulling the paper closer to his face. He couldn’t be sure from just a quick glance but it looked like Fenris talked about the curse on these pages. His thoughts, speculations and such. If Stiles had to make a guess, it looked like Fenris had snooped around, figured out the truth, and then done some research into the curse. 

Turning the page over, Stiles mumbled, “I guess he had a couple of theories about the curse too. Didn’t know about this? That Fenris knew the truth and the curse?” He directed the question at Laura with a quick look.

“I wasn’t sure but I guessed he did,” Laura glanced over his shoulder before pulling him closer as she whispered, “If you live here long enough then you hear the story about how we…” She waved a finger around. That made sense. Stiles folded the papers back before checking the book. There was no title embossed into the soft leather. He pulled the book open to the first page and felt his eyes fly open.

“Argent bestiary?”

Laura nodded, flipping the book to a specific page, “It’s Argat’s original journal. His family's been keeping his journal for years and years. Tracking how to hunt down werewolves and how to kill them. But that’s not important.”

“How can that not be important?” Stiles asked bewildered.

With a sharp grin, Laura found the page she was looking for and held the book up in front of his nose. Stiles blinked at the spidery diagrams in front of him, eyes flitting from one note to another before saying, “Whoa. Is this?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit!” Stiles gripped the journal tighter before lowering it, grinning into Laura’s excited eyes, “They _ did _have some details about the curse!”

“And we can use this information to start looking for a curse breaker.”

* * *

The festivities that had started at dawn were still on-going, following the tradition of old. From one dawning day to the next, the pack members feasted, danced, and enjoyed themselves to the fullest. And this Ceremony was more merry than any of the Ceremonies Derek could remember. Possibly because everyone realized how lucky they were to have survived. Luckier still that they _ had _ new leaders to elect to the head of their packs. 

The Emissary’s had overseen the rites for passing leadership to the new Council, starting as soon as the sun hit its zenith. The new Council had knelt on the large stage, heads bowed. Derek had watched from the side, smiling faintly when he caught sight of Laura glancing at him. She’d smiled back, expression turning serious in a heartbeat when Deaton moved to stand in front of her, pressing a large Simurgh feather to her hair and the jeweled cap she was wearing.

Deaton’s voice rolled over the course, strong and sure as he blessed each new leader and asked hoped that they would have a long and peaceful reign. By all means it _ should _have been a dull ceremony given that it involved one man blessing each new leader in turn. But it wasn’t. It was enrapturing. The crowd seemed to share that sentiment if the long moment of awed silence was anything to go by. It was only when Derek and other family members of the Council took to the stage of congratulate the new leaders that the crowd began to cheer. The clapping, cheering, and general good mood hadn’t stopped since then.

In fact, the crowd had only grown as the day had gone on. While many of the rarer creatures had only come for the Ceremony, like the Simurgh and the griffins, _ most _of the people came for the partying. As soon as the Ceremony was finished, people began to slowly pour into the square. Within the hour, there was a host of tents, carts, stalls, and caravans lined around the area and going into the park. Everything from sweets to grilled meats to games and fortune-telling stands had been put up. And an hour or so before sunset, a large band had set itself up on stage – beginning a dance party that would last through the night.

Derek caught sight of Laura dancing in the middle of a large circle, the sequins on her dress sparkling like the night stars. The flower crown she was wearing, made of red and orange flowers that Sandra, the fire fae leader, had presented her with, sat crookedly on her head. She was smiling and laughing as her partner spun her around into the arms of her next dance partner, a blushing dark haired maiden.

The rest of the new Council were in the thick of the party as well. The fae were dancing nearby, wings glittering under the firelight as they twirled around in complicated patterns. One of the new leaders was dancing with the rest of her people, white hair floating like a cloud around her. The others sat on benches on the outskirts of the dance area, beaming at whoever came to talk to them. 

A loud cheer from his front pulled Derek’s attention back. One of the other alpha’s had come to dance with Laura. And it was in that line of sight that Derek caught sight of a dark skinned girl with golden tattoos inked over her rounded body breaking away from the rest of the crowd. Moving towards him with a familiar sharp look in her eyes. Her hand was soft and cool as it came to rest on top of his wrist, “Will you dance with me?” She asked with a sweet grin.

Derek opened his mouth to turn her down but another body pressed up against his side as a more familiar voice said, “Sorry, his dance card’s booked.”

Barely holding in a relieved sigh, Derek turned to give Stiles a look, “Where’d you go?”

“To get these,” Stiles held up two skewers, handing one over to Derek before giving the girl an apologetic look, “Sorry.”

But the girl simply laughed, bright and merry, “I wouldn’t mind if you joined in too. The more we dance and are merry, the more our new leaders will be blessed.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Stiles wolfed down the meat, wiped his hands against his jeans, and held his arm out towards the girl, “Shall we dance? What about you Derek?”

Momentarily taken aback by the pretty sparkle in Stiles’ eyes, Derek shook his head before holding the skewer up, “I’ll finish this and join you.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that! Let’s go!” Stiles turned to his companion with an eager smile, “You’re going to have to teach me the steps because I don’t know how to-“

Stiles’ voice was drowned out under the sound of the music and chattering and laughter filling the town square. But his figure was easy enough to follow. He was the only one in the outermost circle who kept tripping as he tried to keep up with everyone else. When he was on the other side of the large circle, he glanced up and met Derek’s eyes and grinned brightly. Before he knew what he was doing, Derek found his body moving towards the circle. He moved past the other observers, waiting for Stiles to come within reach before gently extracting him from the circle. 

“Whoa!” Stiles laughed, hands coming to rest on Derek’s biceps, “That was _ fun _! You here to join in?”

“I was thinking closer to the middle,” Derek nodded towards the center where several couples were dancing in pairs to the uilleann pipes, harps, drums, and assorted other instruments belting out their merry tune. There was Laura and her dance partners, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Danny. All of them looking like they’d been with them for all their lives as they changed partners one after another.

Stiles’ eyes brightened immediately, pulling Derek underneath raised arms with a, “Let’s go!”

There was nothing but joy and happiness in the center. Laura grinned as she slipped in front of him, one hand holding her heavy skirts in one hand while the other pulled him away from Stiles, “I get the first dance! Alpha’s rights.”

With a snort, Derek reached out to fix the crooked flower crown before holding his hand out for Laura, “You want to show them how it’s done?”

“Absolutely!” 

The rest of the night passed in a blur of dance partners and merriment. Derek could only remember bits and pieces of everything. He could remember thinking how marvelous and real the forget-me-not’s stitched on Lydia’s knee-length dress looked. He remembered complimenting Allison on her gown and how lovely the silvery winged motif looked. He remembered nearly falling on his face when Cora and the others teased him for not complimenting _their _dresses, playfully offended that they’d been forgotten. Derek remembered being dragged into a separate circle by Boyd and Isaac, standing shoulder to shoulder between them as they moved with the rest of the circle around a group of dancing fae. His feet and body moved of their own accord, muscle memory taking over without him even noticing.

But mostly, Derek remembered Stiles.

The sweat he wiped away with a careless hand before clapping, cheering, and generally egging Isaac on as he danced with Laura. The hooting he'd done when Laura'd blushed upon being asked to dance by Deucalion. The bright look he’d given Derek when Derek had pulled him back into the dancing circle. His laugh when Derek couldn’t wipe away the sauce on his cheek. The easy way in which Stiles had pulled him away towards the park, sitting down next to him in the crowd of tired people waiting for the sun to rise. The warmth of his rough hands when he’d grabbed hold of Derek’s face and kissed him front of everyone else when the sun began to rise up. 

Even now, almost an hour after dawn, Stiles looked the very picture of health – a dramatic change from the tired, grumpy bookworm he’d dragged away from the library only last morning. The color was still high on his cheeks when Derek guided him up the staircase. 

“I’m _ so glad _ you convinced me to come. If I had to spend another day in the library reading that Argent journal, my mind would have,” Stiles made a mock exploding noise while miming the noise with his fist next to his head.

With an amused huff, Derek asked, “How’s that been going?”

“Slow,” Stiles groaned, “I can barely make sense of what the notes say but I’ve got _ some _idea of the foundations of the curse. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. I just want to fall into my bed and pass out till tomorrow. I’m totally beat.”

Their linked hands hung between them, filling Derek with a gentle happiness every time Stiles lightly swung his arm. The novelty of Stiles’ touch was still new and distracting for Derek, and made him fail to realize that they had arrived at Stiles’ door. Derek blinked in surprise at the doors, and then down at his hand where Stiles’ fingers had loosened.

“Well. This is me. I’ll see you tomorrow? Or whenever I wake up?”

Suddenly, that time seemed too much time to spend apart. It was only a few hours and Derek would probably be passed out for them as well. But he didn’t want to leave Stiles. He didn’t want to kiss Stiles goodbye and go back to his bed. His bed that he’d been thinking was just too large and too cold for once person.

His hands moved on their own, holding Stiles’ face as gently as possible as he placed a deeply passionate kiss on the other man’s lips. Derek poured all his desire into the touch, gratified and relieved when Stiles responded immediately with a surprised noise. Eager hands grabbed back, pulling Derek closer, closer until Stiles hit something. Probably the door. Derek couldn't be bothered to open his eyes and check. He was too busy sliding his hands down Stiles’ back, past his ass, to grab onto his thighs and heft him up. Another surprised noise felt hot on his tongue. Stiles’ arms were wrapped around Derek’s shoulders now, holding on as he tried to match the short grinding motions Derek’s hips were making. 

He wanted _ more_. More than these heated kisses that left him aching for more. Derek wanted to chase after the flush that was dipping under Stiles’ shirt collar. He wanted to see what it would take for Stiles to fall apart and become whole again. He wanted to go to sleep with Stiles, not a stitch of clothing between them, and wake up in the same way. Derek just _ wanted _ Stiles in the worst way possible. And thankfully, it looked like Stiles felt the same way. He moan he let out when Derek pressed a heated kiss under his chin made Derek’s dick twitch and leak pre-come. 

“Shit,” Stiles groaned, one hand pulling Derek closer while the other slapped back against the door. “Get in here. We need to get in here.” 

As Stiles’ hand grasped the doorknob, Derek’s hands gripped Stiles tighter against him. When the door opened, there was a second where Derek thought they were going to go tumbling down but he managed to brace himself in time. And then Stiles’ sly hands were sliding under his shirt and up his back with a desperate moan of, “Shut the door, shut the fucking door already.”

Happy to oblige, Derek kicked the door close and let his hands do what they wanted. Which was strip Stiles clean of his clothes, leaving a messy trail up to the bed. Stiles hand matched his frantic speed, tugging on Derek’s shirt hard enough to make it rip. He laid an unapologetic kiss on Derek’s mouth and groaned when Derek’s hands slipped underneath his briefs.

After giving the muscles a firm squeeze, Derek pulled back and laid Stiles down on the bed. Feeling like he was in the eye of the storm, a sudden moment of calm after such a sudden rush of passion and desire, Derek stared down at Stiles and asked, “Is this what you want?”

“Hell yes,” Stiles answered immediately without missing a beat. A touch of concern flitted over his face before he asked, “What about you? Do you want this too?”

“More than anything I’ve wanted in a long, long time,” Derek found himself answering too truthfully, ducking down to press a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. 

To catch of Stiles’ top lip between his lips was possibly the best sensation in the world. Followed by the slow slide of Stiles’ hands running up his side and down to rest against his naked hips. Derek shivered, letting out a wounded noise when Stiles reached up to nip his ear and ask in a heated whisper, “What do you want to do?”

Derek thought about it and grinned wickedly as an idea came to mind almost immediately. “Up the bed,” Derek urged Stiles before following. He waited until Stiles flopped down with his head on the pillow before pushing his legs apart. Stiles’ thighs parted willingly and eagerly, relaxing further open as Derek moved in between them. Stiles' legs twitched and tightened against Derek when he lined their hips together, letting his cock drag sweetly against Stiles. 

Stiles cursed, throwing a hand over his head to grab the headboard before rolling his hips back, “This is good. This is just…_ fuck_!” 

The slow rocking turned into determined thrusts that made the headboard bang against the wall with a steady beat. Stiles’ eyes burned bright and warm as they gazed up at him, looking so beautifully desperate for release. With a groan, Derek began to reach down to take both of them in hand and finish the job, but then Stiles moaned, “Wait.”

Grinding his teeth together because he was _ so damned close _, Derek forced himself to stop after one last wet drag of their dicks together. “What?” He panted, hips already twitching with the desire to hasten the conclusion.

Stiles was wriggling under him, turning on his side before pushing Derek to follow, “Can you lie behind me? Right against me.” He followed obediently, wondering what Stiles had in mind. “Closer. Closer.”

“What are yo-“ Derek’s question melted away the second Stiles reached between his thighs to take hold of Derek’s dick and closed his thighs again.

His hissed groan was stolen by a quick, smug little peck from Stiles, “Better, right? Now fuck me like you want to fuck me.”

Derek was moving before Stiles was even done, hips moving in short, hard thrusts that made the bed creak. With a happy moan, Stiles threw his hand back and sunk his fingers into Derek’s hair. Meanwhile, Derek’s arm went around Stiles’ chest and held him tightly against him as he fucked Stiles thighs.

“That’s it. That’s it. Shit that feels so good. You feel so good,” Stiles moaned senselessly, dropping his free hand down to jerk himself off. And that was it for Derek. As the realization slammed into him that Stiles was a desperate, writhing mess because of him, for him, Derek felt his orgasm crash over him. With one final jerk, his hips smacked into Stiles’ ass as he came in wet spurts over Stiles’ thighs. A few heartbeats later, Stiles let out an awe filled “Oh” and came as well, body locking against Derek’s.

As they both caught their breath, the sun crept higher and higher in the sky. The bright light was seeping in through the curtains, casting a warm tone to the room. Derek pressed a sleepy kiss to the back of Stiles’ neck and murmured, “Can I stay?”

Stiles hand finally slid out of his hair, stroked his cheek, and came to rest against the arm holding him in place, “Course you can. Just help me clean up before I pass out? I don’t want to wake up all crusty.”

With another kiss, this one to Stiles’ shoulder, Derek pulled away. As he slid off the bed, Derek caught sight of Stiles turning around to lie on his back. He was blinking heavily, eyes barely open as he smiled peacefully up at the ceiling. And by the time Derek came back with a wet towel, Stiles was fast asleep. After he’d cleaned Stiles up, Derek deposited the towel back in the bathroom before he crawled back into bed. Stiles let out a pleased murmur and moved to snuggle against Derek, who was more than happy to pull the other man against his side.

With a fond look down, Derek pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles’ forehead, whispered, “Sweet dreams”, and followed Stiles into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

* * *

Once the Ceremony was done with, life in Haven returned to usual. Laura would leave to do Alpha things, Cora and the other pack members went back to their jobs, and Derek being Laura’s new right hand man, was kept busy from morning till sunset.

Which gave Stiles many, _ many _ hours to pour over the Argat bestiary and try to make sense of what it said about the curse. And unfortunately, Stiles had hit a block. He just _ couldn’t _ understand it! Sure the foundations of the curse was given but it was obviously incomplete. If Stiles understood things correctly, then all this curse would do was inflict a great amount of pain on a supernatural creature. Not “strip supernaturals of their humanity” as Argat’s notes said.

With an annoyed growl, Stiles slapped the journal shut and dragged his chair around to face Scott. Who jumped in his seat at the loud noise, “Talk to me about something that _ isn’t _ this stupid curse before I go bat-shit nuts.”

“Uuuuuh,” Scott put his book down on the cushioned seat beside him, “What do you wanna talk about?”

“_Anything _ . I don’t care if you tell me about the mating habits of _ crabs_. Just…”

Holding his hands up, Scott replied, “Okay! Okay! Ummm. Oh. Did Lydia talk to you? About her thing?”

Stiles immediately sat up straighter, “What thing?”

“Okay so, you know how she said that she was a psychic and that it ran in her family? And how she screamed and passed out when you went to check on Gerard?” Stiles nodded, leaning forward eagerly, “Well. You’re never gonna believe this, but her family’s got a banshee attached with ‘em.”

“What!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Scott nodded eagerly. “Someone in her family tree came from one of the big Irish families – O’Niells or O’Briens. They married some super rich Russian guy and they eventually moved to America. That lady? Lydia’s ancestor? She had a really keen sixth sense and could see this old lady wearing a gray hood and could hear her wailing before someone died. A lot of other ladies in Lydia’s family saw her too and all of them were great psychics. Her grandmother told her once that they had some fae blood in them but Lydia just thought she was being… Well. Senile."

Stiles nodded slowly, “So how’d she figure it out then? The banshee part.”

“She went to Marin after the fight because she was worried why she’d passed out the way she did. So Marin used some sparkly powder and stuff and next thing you know there's this lady wearing a shroud or whatever hovering behind Lydia see her. I couldn’t see her face though but fuck if she didn't feel creepy as shit!”

“You got to see an _ actual _ banshee and didn’t tell me till _ now _? Dude!” Stiles shot his best friend an exasperated look, “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry!" Scott apologized. "You’ve been really busy trying to figure out how to break the curse and all so I didn’t think it was important. Besides. I think Lydia wanted to tell you herself.”

Stiles pulled a face. “I’m gonna hafta pretend to be surprised when she tells me.”

With a laugh, Scott replied, “She _ did _ try to tell you actually.”

“No she didn’t! I would have remembered that!” 

“Na dude. You totally blew her off,” Scott laughed harder, “You were so zoned out trying to translate something that you totally ignored her. She told you she had a banshee hanging over her shoulder and you just asked, ‘Is this barrier or bowl?’”

Rubbing a sheepish hand behind her neck, Stiles muttered, “I don’t remember that at all.”

“You don’t remember what?” Allison asked as she entered the study, followed by Isaac and Derek.

“Nothing,” Stiles hurriedly answered, smiling when he caught sight of the older werewolf, “Hey you!” 

An answering smile lit up Derek’s face as he walked up to Stiles. Stiles tilted his chin up in readiness for a kiss he knew he was going to get. And hummed pleasantly when Derek stepped up to press a gently hello to his mouth, “What brings you by?”

“Lunch,” Derek answered, thumb stroking Stiles’ jaw before dropping it down on the back of the chair, “How’ve you been?”

Stiles groaned and pressed his forehead against Derek’s side. “Still stuck, huh?” The werewolf asked wryly.

“So bad,” Stiles agreed before peering up, “What about you?”

Tilting his head, Derek answered, “Good. Didn’t have anything to do today so I helped Isaac teach Allison about fighting with a spear.” 

Stiles turned to look at Allison, who was showing off a move to Scott as Isaac gently told her to correct her grip on her imaginary spear, “It was _ really _ cool!” Allison was gushing, “How many people can say that they got a lesson in spear fighting from two of the most well-known Irish heroes ever!”

“Well-known Irish heroes?” Stiles parroted back at Derek, “You’re a hero?”

Derek shrugged, like it was no big deal, “You might have heard of us. Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad?”

Chulainn and Ferdiad… those names rung a bell. Why did they sound so familiar. His eyes flew open the second the names clicked, “_ The _Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad? The Hound of Ulster? The guy who used Gáe Bulg? Wait… Didn’t… the story goes that you killed Ferdiad.”

“Want me to prove I’m alive?” Isaac asked with an wicked glint in his eyes.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “No thanks. But seriously. I thought…”

“You know how stories tend to change as time passes,” Derek answered, “You can’t believe everything you read.”

Allison laughed, “If he did that then we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“She’s got you there,” Stiles laughed with the others before reaching out to take Derek’s hand, “Wow. So you’re _ the _Cú Chulainn.”

“Are you going to keep saying that name like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…_ that_.”

Snorting, Stiles pushed himself up to his feet, “Just until the shine wears off. It’s not every day you find out your werewolf boo is a renowned hero from Irish mythology.”

“I’ll give you anything you want if you won’t ever refer to him as your werewolf boo,” Scott pleaded half-seriously from his spot next to Allison.

“You couldn’t meet my price.”

“_Please_,” Lydia’s voice interrupted from the doorway, “all Scott needs to do is bribe you with the right food.”

He had to give her that. Stiles _ would _ do just about anything for the right edible item. He even said as much when Derek took the book she was holding and put them down on the table. 

“So um. We gotta go. Got stuff to talk about. Werewolf stuff. And training,” Scott said, following Isaac and Allison who were heading towards the door, “See you guys at dinner?”

Stiles watched the trio walk out the door, amusement rising at how speedily they walked out. Lydia’s amused question broke the silence, “Not very subtle is he?”

“He’s really not.” Stiles laughed, turning his chair around to face the table before he reached out to grab one of the new books, “Got anything good?”

“Just some stuff about banshee’s.” Lydia answered, sitting down on Stiles’ right as Derek took the seat across from her. 

Stiles put the book back in the pile and shoved it in Lydia’s direction, “All yours then. Then again…”

Lydia immediately pulled the books closer to herself, “Nope. You said you were going to focus on the curse and not be distracted. And who told you about my thing?”

“Scott. But come on Lydia!” Stiles whined, making grabby hands for the books, “I’m dying here! If I see Argat’s shitty notes for another _second_, my brain’s gonna melt! I just can’t make sense of his notes! The guy didn’t know jack shit about magic, much less the details about how to put a curse together so his stuff is really basic and ’s got logic holes you could drive a truck through!”

“Weren’t you the one who said you loved a challenge?” Derek asked cautiously. 

“This is worse than a challenge.” Stiles complained. “Sudoku is a good challenge. _ Flappy bird _ is a good challenge. This is like....” He paused to violently gesticulate as he tried to think of a good enough analogy. “It’s like Flappy Bird meets a rubix cube meets an unsolvable maths puzzle that the maths institute pays millions of bucks to solve! It’s freaking _ impossible _!”

The amusement he got from the utterly baffled look Derek gave him was offset almost immediately when Lydia said, “I just call that a good challenge worthy of my time.”

Stiles immediately pushed all his research towards Lydia, “Have at it then. I need a break. I’ve been staring at this for too long. Wanna go for a walk?” He asked, turning towards Derek, all hopeful puppy dog eyes. Derek was on his feet immediately. Stiles couldn’t help but grin, wondering if any historian knew that the fearsome Cú Chulainn was a complete marshmallow. 

His mind went blissfully empty as they stepped outside. Stiles closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The air was warm, gently scented by the sweet pea’s growing nearby. There was the faintest cool edge outside that soothed his nerves, tension falling off his shoulders with his exhale. He could even hear a few birds singing nearby.

“Where are we going today?” Stiles asked, quirking an eyebrow up at Derek. Their daily walks typically involved walking to town and back, but sometimes Derek would lead him to the gazebo and there they would sit and talk. Once he’d taken him to the large greenhouse that the Reyes family looked after. 

Derek looked thoughtful for a moment before asking. “Do you feel up to a longer walk?”

With a small shrug, Stiles answered, “Sure. What did you have in mind?” 

“The forest out back. Maybe a change in scenery will help break the mental block.”

Stiles held his hand out towards Derek, “Why not. It’s worth a try.”

Warm happiness filled him when Derek’s clawed hand curled around his own, grip firm as he led them to the back of the house. Several houses stood on either side of the pathway, cottages of different sizes with a few people milling around doing various chores. A pair of teenagers were hanging clothes up, an elderly lady sat on a chair with her feet up on a stool, face turned up towards the sun as she dozed. Several men were busy making a new cottage, hefting stone, timber, and hay as they worked. No one paid them any mind as they walked. The path narrowed once they hit the treeline and it didn’t take long for the sun to hide behind the trees. Pale, warm light peeping through the green canopy to dot their path, highlighting the small flowers growing along the pathway. 

“Where’s this go to?” Stiles asked eventually, eyes moving around them in the hopes of catching sight of a wood nymph or pixies. Cora had mentioned before that the forest was _ teeming _ with all kinds of small fae. Maybe he’d get to see some up close.

“All the way to the foot of the mountains,” Derek’s continued explanation took a back seat in favor of Stiles looking around every which way. As Derek spoke on, talking about the caves carved into the mountain by griffins and creature who lived there, Stiles’ steps began to drag. His mind was still too caught up in trying to figure out the curse. If only he could figure out the mechanics of the curse, then he’d be able to break it or figure out a way to reverse its effects. But as Hades put it, if only. _ If only _.

“Everything alright?”

Derek’s voice cut through the dense fog swirling in his head. “Hmm?” Stiles asked, “What’d you say?”

They’d stopped in the middle of the path with Derek staring at him with a deeply concerned look, “I said is everything’s alright?”

Stiles sighed, shoulders slumping, “Sorry. My heads still back in the study.”

Derek took a step forward, pressing a hand against Stiles’ neck, “You shouldn’t push yourself this hard. No one’s expecting you to solve this.”

“I feel like I _ gotta _ solve this though,” Stiles argued back, reaching back to grab hold of Derek’s jacket, “After everything that happened I want to do something right. Something that’ll help. Plus… I really can’t stand it.”

“Can’t stand what?”

Stiles gave Derek a sheepish look, “Finding a puzzle I can’t solve.” 

With a quiet huff and head shake, Derek gently brushed his knuckles against Stiles’ chin before saying, “You need to know when to let go Stiles.”

“Fair,” Stiles sighed in agreement, “It’s just… frustrating. All I need is some information about how the curse was made and we could figure out how to turn it around. But instead I feel like I’m trying to spell a twelve letter word without a hint and one vowel.”

“And there’s no way you can get that hint?”

Pausing a moment to consider the question, Stiles took a minute before replying, “Well… I thought about that. But who can I get that hint from? No one here’d know about it. Unless you’ve got a coven of witches living somewhere in the mountains?”

With a small smile, Derek shook his head, “Sorry. No witches allowed. We couldn’t take the chance.”

Stiles waved his hand like Derek had just proven his point, “If there’s no witches around to help then I dunno how else we can get like… a blueprints. It’s not like there’s…”

Wait.

Goosebumps erupted over Stiles' arms.

_ Wait. _

“Stiles? What’s wrong?”

Staring up into Derek’s concerned eyes, Stiles grabbed the other man’s jacket once more and gave him an excited shake, “A blueprint! All I need to see is a blueprint!”

Without missing a beat, Stiles let his excitement take over and dragged Derek back down the path as he yelled, “We’re gonna figure this out Derek! We’re gonna do it!” 

* * *

Stiles had hurriedly explained his revelation to Derek as he’d stuffed some journals into his bag. “There’s this concept of using magic to “break-down” a spell into into component parts. Healers kind of do something similar when they’re trying to figure out if someone got smacked with a curse or a spell. But even then, the most they can figure out is what the spell is and not what’s the make up of it.”

Derek darted forward to stop a stack of books from sliding to the floor after Stiles grabbed one leather-bound book from the pile and yanked it out. “What’s that got to do with the curse?”

“Like I said,” Stiles answered even as he began to move back to the door and gestured for Derek to hurry up, “we need a blueprint of the curse. If can figure out what it’s made up of then we can _ really _start figuring how to fix it.”

Could it really be that simple? Derek wondered and asked aloud.

Stiles barked out a short laugh. “It’s not simple at all. You need to have cultivated the right magic skills first of all. And there’s not a lot of people who’re interested in this either. There’s not a lot of curses out there and all witches, mages, and shit keep pretty detailed records of their work. That makes it easier to work your way back. And healers figure that the system they have? If it’s working fine, there’s no real need to improve it.”

Derek matched Stiles’ hurried steps down the road, wondering, “Do you think you can do it?”

“I can't but I think Danny can.”

Derek’s heart leapt with hope, pounding against his ribs between every step. He shouldn’t hope. Not after all the other failed attempts. There had been Emissary’s before Stiles who had tried and failed. Who had shown the same level of enthusiasm. But he found himself hurrying still, taking the lead as he said, “Danny said he’d be at Deaton’s.”

With a beaming grin, Stiles hastened his pace as well. Before long, they were standing in the backroom of Deaton’s shop, next to a confused looking Danny who was listening to Stiles explain his theory. “Do you think you could... I don’t know...tweak your magic to examine the curse?”

Derek held his breath as Danny made a face, “I’m not sure. I mean, maybe? I can see why you’d think that but I’ve never really tried to use it for anything other than my usual techno-mag stuff. I don't even know if they'll be compatible with people.” 

Stiles turned around, grabbed Derek and pulled him forward with an excited gleam in his eyes, “Can you try it right now? I need to see what the curse looks like. It’s structure and foundation and shit.”

“It’s not that easy and you know it,” Danny replied with an apologetic look at Derek. “This is totally uncharted territory. I don’t have a clue what kind of runes we should start with, what tools we should, if we need to take the moon into consideration or not.”

“Might be smart to do this when the moon is waning,” Derek couldn’t help but suggest.

Stiles nodded. He turned to Deaton to ask, “What’s the moon’s phase right now?” 

“A new moon,” Deaton told him. 

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up. “Okay. That gives us some time to get things set up. See what works and what not. Do you think we can make a first attempt on a full moon?”

“Would that be a good idea? Considering what werewolves are most powerful then?”

“It might give the curse more strength and increase the odds to making it more visible too,” Stiles quickly answered Danny’s question. “We gotta try a ton of hypotheses out.”

“I think we need to get Lydia in on this,” Danny suggested.

“It might be a good idea to involve some of the Emissary’s too,” Derek jumped in..

Stiles glanced over, excitement giving way to a thoughtful expression. “Do you think they’ll be able to help?”

“There’s a few that might. It can’t hurt to get their help”

With a quick nod, Stiles replied, “Okay, let’s get things going.”

It took a few days to get everyone together. Laura offered the use of the main study to the group to hold their first meeting/discussion. They were eight of them in total - Derek, Stiles, Lydia, Danny, Deaton, Jane, Anthony, and Bruce. They sat around a large rectangular table, listening to Stiles lay his idea out. 

“The plan right now is to figure out a way to see the curse. It’s magic and magic has a presence. It’s got its own energy signature. So we just need to figure out a way to see it. And if we see it then we can _ probably _ see its components and shit. Once we know that…”

“We can figure out a way to break it down,” Anthony finished, “Clever.”

Lydia spoke next, pointing out. “This is going to take a lot of time, you realize that right? This is going to take a lot of trial and error.”

“That’s why I asked you on board. We need a researcher with us. The rest of us,” Stiles nodded over at the Emissary’s, “we’ll go over all the texts we can to try and figure out what materials can help us out.”

Jane, a homey-looking brunette, was thoughtfully tapping her pencil against the table. She had a far away look in her eyes that jerked over to surprise when Bruce, who was sitting next to next, snatches her pencil out of her hand and began scribbling down on his notepad. “Working under the assumption that the curse is intertwined with any person’s true nature, the best course of action would be to use materials that suppress those instincts and amplify the curse. That should make it easier to reveal the nature of the magic influence.”

Jane immediately scowled, “I’d argue the opposite. We need materials that would _ power _the true nature of any person. For Derek, we should make all attempts when there’s a full moon.”

It didn’t take long for the table to descent into a shouting match. Derek tolerated it as much as he could but soon enough, he was slamming his hands flat against the table and barking, “That's _enough_!” Startled into silence, the group stared at him with wide eyes. Derek turned to Danny, who had remained quiet during all the bickering. “Do you think you can do this?”

With a hesitating look over at the others, Danny nodded carefully. “Theoretically? It should be able to work. In concept, what Stiles wants me to do is pretty close to what I do already. The whole problem is that this is uncharted territory for me. But I think the first thing we need to figure out, more than the materials? Is what kind of rune we should be using to trace the magic’s roots.”

“Why’s that?” 

Lydia answered Derek’s question before Danny could, “Because runes are the foundation of Danny’s magic. It gives structure to the magic, tells it where to go and what to do. If we pick the wrong rune, then the magic is going to run wild and who knows what might happen.”

“Probably an explosion,” Bruce pointed out with all the air of someone who had a fair bit of experience in that area.

At Derek’s alarmed look, Jane quickly reassured him, “You won’t be hurt in that case. When you don’t pick the right rune, the magic rebounds on the magic user. You’ll be fine.”

That wasn’t as reassuring as Jane wanted it to be if Derek was completely honest. She however, didn’t realize this because she was drawn to Bruce’s scribblings. It didn’t take long for the group to do back to yelling at each other. This time however, Derek gave up and stepped out of the room. But not before he stopped by Stiles’ chair and quietly told him, “Call me if you need me.”

Stiles nodded before going back to fiercely arguing with Jane why using the common “seek” rune made more sense than the “pursue” one. Derek left them to it, wandering through the mansion in search of Laura to give her an update. She was in their mom’s... _ her _ office, leaning against the table with a folder in her hands. The creases between her eyebrows smoothed over when she saw him, slapping the folder close before turning to him. “How’d it go?”

“They’re still at it. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone comes to you in an hour saying they got into a fist fight.”

Laura snorts, tossing the folder down on the table. “That’ll be a first. Usually people get into fights because someone insulted their mother or something. It’ll be a nice change of pace I guess.” Her expression turned serious when she asked, “What do you think though? Is there a chance for this to work?”

“Theoretically,” Derek replied. When Laura raised a questioning eyebrow, he explained. “Danny said that he does this every day but he’s never done it in this way. So they need to figure out _how _they can do this. That’s where all the arguments are kicking in.”

Nodding, Laura pushed away from the table. “Okay. But that still doesn’t answer my question.” Her piercing gaze caught his and pinned him in place. “Do you think this will work?”

That's the real question isn't it. Does he believe? Does he have enough hope left in him to go through this again? Past the lump in his throat, Derek answered, “It might. This is as close as someone’s ever gotten.”

The hoarseness of his voice causes Laura’s expression to soften. She steps closer to him, takes hold of his wrist, and squeezes. Grateful, Derek returns the touch with a small smile.

* * *

It’s been a frustrating month, filled with more arguments than the time he had to defend his thesis in front of the college board. Every suggestion given was attacked from every angle, debated thoroughly until every avenue had been exhausted. Yet despite all their efforts, naturally, almost every attempt to try and even _ initiate _the curse trace had been unsuccessful. Jane’s hair was still frizzy from their last attempt only two days ago. Anthony’s burn from the attempt before that was still covered with bandages. Bruce had finally stopped limping around from their first attempt. Deaton was the only one of the Emissary’s who hadn’t been injured in their experiments.

Stiles had had his fair share of bumps and bruises but it wasn’t anything compared to the others. Singed eyebrows hardly counted! Besides which, they were a small price to pay if they could crack this. Danny was the only one from their group who had maintained his excitement despite all their failures so far. He moved around the room bleeding nervous energy, clearing space for Derek and thensome in case there was another magic explosion.

“Stiles.” Danny’s voice pulled Stiles out of his head. “Where’s that paper?”

Stiles dug into his pockets, rooting around fruitlessly before looking around him. He’d had that when he’d come in... Oh there it was! He plucked the single sheet of paper out from under his bag and handed it over to Danny, who turned back to his desk, pushing several circuit boards, tools, and papers out of the way before picking up a marker. 

“Are you ready, Derek?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Danny held his hand out towards the werewolf, “Palm up.”

Placing his hand in Danny’s, Derek watched the human quickly sketch two runes on his skin, eyes darting between Derek’s palm and the paper Stiles had handed over. Behind him, Scott whispered, “Is this going to work? Or is there gonna be another... you know...” 

“Cross your fingers and hope for the best,” Stiles murmured back. 

Everyone held their breath as Danny capped the marker, pressed his fingertips against the runes, and closed his eyes. Stiles felt the energy in the room change; transforming from nothingness to a faintly electrical feeling that made the hair on his arms stand up. The black runes on Derek’s palm turned bright blue, sinking under his skin before it began to spread through him in thin vines.

Stiles wasn’t sure who gasped but it was drowned out under Deaton’s quiet, “It worked.”

Delighted, Stiles stepped next to Danny, who was beaming at Derek, who was twisting his arms to examine the blue lines running up and down his body. Without a word, Stiles held his hand up for Danny and grinned back when he got a high five in return. 

“What exactly worked?” Scott asked as he stepped next to Derek, eyeing the blue lines warily.

“We finally found a compatible rune upon which we can build the counter curse,” Anthony answered. He shot Jane an annoyed look, “And before you say it, yes I know it’s not a counter curse but it’s easier to say that instead of “a way to see the curses" elements.””

“It’s a start,” Stiles pointed out with delight, holding his own palm out towards Danny. “Try it on me too. Let’s see if it what it looks like on a regular magic user.”

  
“And see if this was a fluke,” Jane pointed out helpfully. “Lydia said we needed to be careful about that.”

Less than a minute later, green lines ran over Stiles’ skin and he happily wiggled his glowing hand in front of Jane. “Not a fluke! Also, how come I don’t have as many lines as Derek does?”

“Probably because he’s inherently more magical than you are,” Anthony suggested. 

That was probably true. Stiles couldn’t stop himself from gently nudging Derek to ask, “How do you feel?”

Grinning around his teeth, Derek answered, “Good. Hopeful.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Unfortunately for them however, that was the only success they’d achieved since beginning their little experiment. In the next few days, they began testing out different oils, paints, and other materials to act as a catalyst for the spell and visualize the curse. The problem was, no combination of materials seemed to work. All that happened was Derek would light up like a Christmas tree - nothing more, nothing less. Everyone’s frustration was rising with each failure now, including Stiles. There were hundreds and thousands of ingredients used in spells even if you isolated the werewolf-friendly ones. Which in turn meant there were millions of combinations available to them to pair things up.

It was clear that the frustration was effecting Derek as well. Every day Derek would meet them filled with a tentative hope and would leave feeling twice as frustrated and despondent as Danny. And every night, Stiles would kiss him and tell him, “Don’t give up. We’re _ so _close.” 

Derek would smile and return Stiles’ kiss because it was the easiest thing to do. _ My kingdom for a computer _, Stiles gripped to himself as he expanded the list of potential ingredient combinations. Next to him, Anthony, Jane, and Bruce were double checking their work, making sure they were not repetition in their ingredients lists. Derek, Lydia, and Danny were on the other side of the room, giving Deaton a summary of their experiments from the past week. Today’s meeting was being held at Deaton’s shop. 

“Theoretically, it sounds fine. I don’t think there’s any mistake on that front,” Deaton was saying, holding onto the sheet of papers Danny had given him, “Have you considered location as a potential factor?”

Lydia nodded immediately. “We thought about that. When we repeated the experiment at Hale Manor the glow was the strongest it has ever been. We thought it may have been the waxing moon but the glow was strong afterwards as well.”

“Pack land adds to our power,” Derek helpfully explained. 

Stiles paused his work to pay attention to Derek’s words, hopeful that his lover would elaborate but that was all he said. A touch disappointed, Stiles almost went back to his work. But he caught sight of Deaton’s thoughtful expression and waited. Deaton re-read Danny’s notes, before asking, “Has anyone else try to use the rune or has it just been you Danny?”

“I asked Lydia but it didn’t do anything.”

“As in, at all,” Lydia clarified stiffly. “There was no reaction when I attempted to repeat the ritual.”

“What about the other Emissary’s?”

“The rune activated but that was it.”

Deaton’s dark eyes glanced at Derek liquid fast before turning back to Stiles. “And you? Did you try?”

It was hard not to jump guiltily at being caught eavesdropping but somehow, Stiles kept his reaction down to a hard twitch. 

“We’ve got a rule to _ not _ let Stiles experiment with new magic,” Danny answered wryly. “Things tend to explode when he does.”

“_It was only a couple of times! That doesn’t make a pattern!” _Stiles snapped back.

But Deaton ignored him in favor of meeting Danny’s gaze, “So he hasn’t tried using this rune? Not even once?”

When Danny shook his head, Deaton moved towards the backroom, where he kept most of his supplies. Quietly, the others watched the man exit the room before Danny asked, “He’s not going to do what I think he’d going to do… right?”

“I think he is…” Derek answered slowly. 

Trepidation rose in Stiles with every soft clink of glass tapping glass. Why would Deaton expect the results would be different if Stiles was the primary caster? If Danny, whose was the specialist, and Emissary's, who were far more experienced than he was, weren’t able to activate the rune fully... how could he? Stiles stared at the half open door and muttered, “He better not bring back more of that birch oil because if he does…”

“If he _ does...?” _ Danny urged Stiles to finish his sentence, lips twitching at the corner against his will.

Shooting his friend a slightly worried look, Stiles answered, “There’s a good chance that the explosion might blow up everything in the room. That oil is… either that oil is special or I was an idiot for never testing my compatibility with birch oil.” 

Danny’s eyes widened in alarm, turning towards Derek. But Derek was too busy turning towards the door where he could hear Deaton coming back. “Here we are,” Deaton said as he stepped through the doorway, holding a vial of pale amber liquid, “Stiles. I’d like you to use this please.”

Pointing at the bottle Deaton was holding out for Stiles to accept, Bruce asked, “That’s not birch oil is it?”

“No. It’s a special mix of mine. Peppermint, rosemary, and eucalyptus. Pungent smelling but the best choice when you want to find something.” Deaton gently shook the bottle under Stiles’ nose, smiling faintly when he accepted.

As he stared at the bottle, Stiles asked, “That’s something I wanted to ask actually. That oil you gave me when… you gave me before? The birch oil? It gave me one hell of a power boost and I was wondering if that was me or…”

“It was meant to do that,” Deaton answered, walking around the table to sit back down. “That particular oil blend is meant to amplify the user’s powers.”

“One hell of a power boost,” Stiles muttered as he uncorked the vial he’d accepted. Stiles held the vial under his nose to take a sniff and immediately recoiled coughing. Derek pushed himself off the wall, ready to ask what was wrong before his face twisted in disgust too. 

“That’s…” Danny began before pausing and trying again in a choked voice, “_potent_.”

“Understatement,” Stiles retorted, free hand pinching his nose close before turning to Deaton. “What difference is that going to make if I’m the one trying the rune out?”

“Humor me please. It’s a hunch for the most part.”

“That’s not cryptic at all,” Stiles grumbled under his breath. “Is this that Spark thing again?”

“Yes.”

“If that’s the case then why didn’t it work for the other Emissary’s?”

“Because they’re bound to their own packs. That limits them. But you are still part of the Hale pack." It had to be his imagination but the spirals on Stiles' wrist warmed. "There’s a chance this will work for you.”

Stiles sighed and pushed himself up on his feet, “One of these days I’m gonna ask you to properly explain this Spark business to me. Derek, you ready?”

With a nod, Derek moved to stand in front of Stiles. Derek took his shirt off, folding it in half and tossing it at the nearest flat surface. Stiles couldn’t help but rake his gaze over the bared skin, grinning a little when he caught Derek’s gaze. Derek grinned back and for a moment, they forgot where they were. They were brought back into the moment when Deaton indicating for Stiles and Danny to step up. “I’d like you to use this oil to write the rune on Derek. But rather than his hand, try writing it on his back. Over his tattoo. Danny, I’d like you to help Stiles.”

Danny’s puzzled expression deepened, “How am I supposed to help by the way?”

“Think of Stiles as a catalyst. A way to amplify your abilities by tapping into his potential and his bond to Derek, and the Hale pack by proxy.”

There was a long pause where Stiles exchanged a confused look with Danny. “And _ how _are we supposed to do that?”

Deaton gestured for Derek to turn his back to them. “Danny, I’d like you to draw the rune, here.” He tapped a spot on the werewolf’s back. “Stiles, I’d like you to put your palm on top of that rune. Danny, put your hand on top of his and channel your magic through Stiles.”

To say this sounded rudimentary as fuck would be an understatement if you asked Stiles. But hey, anything was worth a shot at this point. Derek glanced over his shoulder, a questioning look in his eyes. With a reassuring smile back, Stiles nodded. “Let’s try it. You want to start Danny?”

“Here goes nothing.”

The thick, cloying scent of the oil filled the room as soon as Stiles opened the vial. Derek held his breath, body tense as a wire as Stiles poured some of the oil into his open palm and held it out towards Danny. He pressed the back of his knuckles against Derek’s side, hoping it would comfort the other man. But the tension stayed, keeping Derek’s back and shoulders straight, even when Danny’s oil-wet fingertip traced careful lines into Derek's skin. As soon as the rune was done, Stiles pressed his palm down on top of it. He licked his dry lips, almost tasting the nervous anticipation hovering in the room. 

Stiles realized his throat was dry when Danny’s hand pressed on top of his, feeling that unexplained sensation of magic gathering. Most people compared it to the calm before a storm. For Stiles, it felt more like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. He took in a deep breath, tasting electricity at the back of his throat. Without thinking, Stiles found himself murmuring the words Danny used to begin his tracking magic. It may have been his imagination or his hope, but something felt different this time. The oil rune pulsed with warmth under his palm. 

A tingling sensation ran up his spine when he heard Danny whisper, “I’ll be damned.” right as Derek let out a shocked little noise.

Stiles opened his eyes and felt his jaw drop. The blue glowing veins that typically would color Derek’s skin had been replaced with thick, jagged silver lines that reminded Stiles of moonlight. It was ethereal, seeing those thick lines cover Derek’s skin like a beautiful tattoo. Wondrously, Stiles touched a line on Derek’s forearm, “This is new.”

Distracted from examining himself, Derek didn’t reply. Deaton let out an interested noise and the others pressed closer. No one other than Stiles however, touched Derek.

“Does this mean that it worked?” Jane asked tentatively, looking around their group. 

Anthony shrugged helplessly while Bruce answered, “I think so. The depth of these lines is different. Before, it was clear the lines were on the skin. Look at the lines on his hands. They’re going under his fingernails. And the ones on his face. Derek, could you show us your teeth please?” Derek obliged. The red-haired man let out a soft, “Huh. See that? It’s _ in _the teeth. I think these silver lines are... Derek’s werewolf-ness.”

“Werewolf-ness?” Anthony drawled.

Bruce shrugged helplessly. “If you’ve got a better word for it, feel free to use it.”

Stiles heard all of the conversation from a distance, more caught up in circling Derek and admiring the sight of him. “This is _ so _ cool,” Stiles said in a hushed whisper, “Your magic is literally in your bones. It’s at your core. And… wait. What’s that?”

The sudden question pulled everyone’s attention towards the silver and black cluster in the center of Derek’s chest. Anthony squinted through his glasses and asked, “That can’t be a tumor, can it?”

“Werewolf, remember?” 

At Derek’s dry remark, Anthony gave him an apologetic look. “It still looks a lot like a tumor.”

“It’s got to be the curse then. Can’t be anything else. What do you think Deaton?”

“I agree,” Deaton nodded. 

“Does that mean we did it?” Danny asked, looking around with wide surprised eyes. 

Stiles snorted at the look, “Did you think we wouldn’t be able to?”

“Honestly? Yeah! It takes more people years, if not their whole lifetimes, to figure out how to develop a new magic technique.”

“It’s not a new magic technique as much as tweaking an existing one. That takes a lot less time.” Stiles gently tapped Derek’s chest, frowning when the cluster stayed immobile. “Okay so. Now that we’re seeing this curse... what do we do next?”

“Take it out?” Derek suggested.

Stiles couldn’t help but snort. “Sure but _ how _?”

That led to a moment of contemplative silence. “Do we want to approach this like surgery or like a noninvasive procedure?” Jane asked. When she got confused look in return, she explained, “Are we looking for ways where we reach into Derek to pull the curse out or do we want something else?”

“Is that even possible? To reach into my body and just... pull it out?” Derek asked, looking something between alarmed and intrigued.

“The Morris pack had some healers a couple of generations ago who specialized in something similar. They could reach into the body and pull out “rotten flesh” that was causing sickness in humans. It was pretty risky because the human body can’t deal with that kind of trauma. But you’re a werewolf so the odds of you surviving it are better.”

“Let’s do that then!” The eagerness in Derek’s voice broke Stiles’ heart a little for some reason. Derek looked over at him, missing the way Jane worriedly chewed on her bottom lip.

He touched Derek’s hand to get his attention and said as gently as possible, “We don’t know if that’ll work. If that technique worked to pull tumors and stuff out will work for nothing intangible like a curse. And even if it did, we don’t know if ripping it out won’t hurt you in the process.”

Derek’s expression twisted into one of intense frustration. An angry growl rumbled in his chest for a few seconds before he forcibly stopped himself. Stiles glanced at the others, sharing their worried gaze. He pleaded wordlessly for someone else to step in, to say something that would reassure Derek without... without giving him too much hope.

He was ready to kiss Deaton when he spoke up, voice quiet but confident. “I’m sure we can find a way to use this technique to our advantage and help you and others like you Derek. And if we can’t use this technique? We will find another way.”

“That’s right,” Bruce added. “We can repeat this with other people who were cursed and see what are the similarities and work our way backwards. This is our chance to understand the mechanism of the curse. We’ll figure it out.”

Stiles slipped his hand into Derek’s and gave it a squeeze. “What he said.”

The look he got from Derek then, pained yet hopeful, and so _ young _, had Stiles moving forward to grab the taller man into a hug. “We’ll figure it out,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s neck. “I promise I’ll figure it out.”

He sealed the promise with a kiss.

* * *

As the days began to lengthen and grow warm, the small investigator group had grown now, bolstered by individuals from other packs and families who had similarly been affected by the curse. They had repeated the experiment on other cursed individuals and the results had been the same, which at least proved that their technique hadn’t been a fluke. But progress was still slow. Derek had to remind himself that progress, slow as it was, was better than nothing.

So far, what they'd learned was that it wouldn’t be possible to pull the curse out - the curse was too entwined with the cursed persons’ magical essence. Their strategy now, as Jane had put it, was trying to unravel the curse from each person’s essence like “trying to straighten out a two balls of tangled-up yarn.” It was a dull, time consuming process but very, very doable. Happily, they'd also learned that each pack Emissary's could step in as the principal caster and start 'detangling' the curse from the cursed person. 

For Derek however, Deaton had handed over responsibility over to Stiles. Stiles had side-eyed this decision but made no argument against it. When he’d asked Stiles about it, Stiles had said, “I want to be the one to help you. I just... yeah.”

And that was that. Him and Stiles spent an hour or so every day where Stiles would attempt to carefully pluck the curses’ dark tendrils away from Derek’s core. It was slow work that demanded all of Stiles’ concentration and magical effort. It was worth it however when Derek was able to shift back to his human form for a few scant seconds. The way Stiles’ face had lit up, fiercely proud and delighted, had been worth the agony Derek had had to push through to make the change possible.

Their current goal, was to increase the amount of time Derek could retain the shift, and make it as painless as possible. So far, Derek was up to 12 seconds of maintaining his human face but the pain hadn’t dulled in the slightest. Stiles was muttering to himself, hand deep inside of Derek’s chest, fingers delicately trying to pull a thread of the curse away from a cluster of silver, when someone knocked on the door. They turned as one, glancing at the closed door before looking at each other. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Stiles asked.

“No. I’ve told everyone not to interrupt us when we’re working on the curse.”

“Must be something important...”

Derek stood up, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on before he opened the door. He'd barely opened it an inch when the person on the other side, Erica, blurted out, “We’ve got trouble.”

Stiles was on his feet in a flash, heart in his throat. 

“What kind of trouble?” Derek asks sharply.

Erica’s eyes flit to Stiles as she answers, “Peter and Deucalion found another group of humans trying to make their way up the trail. They were looking for the city.”

“Why didn’t they deal with them like usual?” Deal with... Stiles stared at Derek in alarm, wondering if the man meant what he thought he meant. Derek noticed the look and quickly elaborated, “We don’t kill them. We use some magic to disorient them and make sure they take a different path.”

“Because one of them was talking about Stiles and the Scott.” 

And just like that, the tension between them evaporated. Erica rambled on, gesturing over at Stiles. “At first we thought they were some lost hikers trying to make their way to the top of the mountains. And Kenna and Paul didn’t think anything when they started talking about Scott because that’s a common enough name. But then they mentioned Stiles and realized these people were here looking for them.”

Derek stared at him, his eyes holding the same question that’s racing through Stiles’ brain. Who could be looking for him? Who could be dedicated enough to make their way this far up-

Stiles sucked in a stricken breath, eyes going wide. His voice was heavy with urgency when he asked, “Was one of them an older guy? Who looks... Wait.” Stiles dugs into his pockets, hoping that he hadn’t forgotten to bring his wallet with him. His fingers shook a little as he pulled out the worn picture of him and his dad. He held it out for Erica and Derek to see. “Did one of them look like this?”

The blonde barely looked at the picture before shaking her head. Disappointment slapped into him, causing Stiles to lose his breath. “I wasn’t there. They haven’t even been brought in yet. They’re still out there on the other side of the mountain. Deucalion sent Kenna back to tell Laura and you.” 

Fuck! There was still hope then! Stiles turned to Derek. “I have to go see. If it’s my dad then I can’t just let him stay out there in the cold like that. Who knows what might happen.”

He was panicking, Stiles realized this from a distant. His brain was working a hundred miles an hour, already planning to pack his gear and find the fastest way out of the city. Maybe he could ask one of the kelpie’s to give him a ride to the nearest body of water near the entrance cave? His planning was interrupted by Derek touching his shoulder.

“You should make sure it _ is _your dad. Erica,” Derek turned to the blonde. “Is Kenna still here?”

“Downstairs in Laura’s office.”

“Lets go show show Kenna that picture. Make sure it’s your dad and not someone else."

He nodded, hurrying out the door with Erica and Derek hot on his heels. Stiles knew that it had to be his dad. It just _had _to be! But how the hell had the man managed to come all the way up here? And who was he with as well? Had his dad thought that something had happened? He'd probably panicked that Stiles hadn't called in a week. 

Laura and Kenna were stepping out of her office just as they turned the corner, solemn expressions on their faces. Kenna was listening carefully to Laura, who waved them over. Stiles hurried over, holding the picture out towards Kenna as he asked, “Kenna! Is this one of the guys you saw?”

The silver haired woman started a little at having a picture abruptly thrust into her face but she rolled with it, especially when Laura said, "Just tell him,"

With a little head shake, she stared at the picture before nodding. “Yeah. He looked a little older but that’s the guy I was telling you about Laura.”

His knees threatened to give out from under him. Stiles was glad for Derek's steadying presence when he reached out to squeeze Stiles' shoulder. Focusing on the tight grip, Stiles told himself he had to stay strong for just a little while longer. “What are you going to do? What's the plan?"

“Bring them in. It’s a small group this time. One lady and five men, one of them being your father. They’re being led up here by a local guide, someone who stays at the village at the foot of the mountains to try and talk people out of hiking up here.” At that, Laura turns back to Kenna. “I want to talk with the guide too. I want to know how he got convinced into helping these people to the city. Especially since he doesn’t know about you and what happened in the city. Tell Deucalion to lead them in.”

And that was his knees giving out on him. Thank fuck for Derek and his werewolf reflexes because he caught Stiles before his knees hit the carpet. Erica and Laura darted forward together with matching 'oh shit!' expressions while Kenna's body spazzed in surprise. All their startled expressions made Stiles' laugh, high and wheezy. "Fuck. Sorry. I just... _ Thank you _, Laura.”

She smiled back, offering him a hand up. “I’m sorry I can’t let you go with the others to bring them back. It’ll be too much of a risk. You’ll have to stay here and wait.”

He hated the thought of waiting if he was honest. But he understood why it was important. So he told himself to be mature and asked, “Can’t I go with them to the entrance at least?”

“Once he’s through the cave then all that’s left is for him to come the city,” Kenna pointed out quietly. “Stiles won’t be in any danger then. And he’ll be able to make sure it really _ is _his dad. We’ll be able to deal with any threats faster in case there’s something wrong.”

Stiles sharply glances over at Kenna. “Is that possible?”

“Weirder things have happened,” Erica said dryly.

He was this close to asking what when Laura interjected. “Okay. Lets do that. Stiles, take Derek, Erica, and Boyd with you. Kenna, I want you to go back to the others and tell them it’s okay to bring these people in. And tell Rogers I want to speak to him as soon as he’s in the city.”

Kenna nods and hurries away. Stiles turns to Laura, asking, “How long do you think this will take?”

“Probably a day or so if everything goes according to plan. And if it didn't snow again on the outside.”

A whole _ day _of waiting? Stiles almost groaned in theatrical agony. Erica shot him a sympathetic look. "Maybe you should wait at the cabin you guys were staying at before? It'll cut some of your travel time down."

Stiles couldn't help but perk up at the idea. He was ready to hug Erica in gratitude but held off. Instead, he shot her a grateful smile and turned to Derek. "When we can leave?”

“Do you need me to do anything Laura?” The man asked his older sister.

Laura shook her head, “No. Just keep a close eye on the guy Stiles’ dad brought with him. Kenna said there was something fishy about him.”

“Something fishy?” Stiles echoed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She said he was a supernatural creature but she wasn’t sure _ what_. It wasn’t anything she’d come across before.”

Stiles thought about the wide variety of supernatural creatures who lived in the city and wondered, aloud, “What the hell could _ that _be?”

Laura shrugged in response. 

* * *

Derek sat on a large boulder near the cave entrance and watched Stiles pace. Stiles was a ball of energy on a bad day and now that he was nervous and anxious? It was twice as bad. He kept glancing down at his watch, up at the sun, and back at the vines covering the cave. Sometimes he’d freeze mid-step and dart over towards the cave, shoving the thick leafy vines out of the way to peer into the dark. He'd stand there for a long moment before giving up and resuming his pacing. Every so often, he’d turn to Derek and ask, “Do you hear anything?” and Derek would shake his head. Dejected, Stiles would sigh and go back to pacing. 

Derek did nothing to stop Stiles, choosing instead to close his eyes and focus his attention on the cave. There was nothing but silence on the other end. It was almost meditative, tuning his attention to the faintest sound indicating someone was coming. That, combined with the warm sun pouring over them, Derek had dozed off on his seat. He snapped out of it when he heard a clear shuffle of boots against the rocky floor. Derek’s eyes snapped open, body turning sharply towards the cave.

The sudden movement drew Stiles attention as well, who stilled and asked, “What is it?”

“I heard something.”

Stiles held his breath as Derek walked over to the cave mouth, and pulled the vines out of the way, eyes and ears seeking out the source of the noise. He took a step in, letting the dark wash over him. He felt Stiles press up against his side, whispering, “Can you tell if it’s people or not?”

“It’s people. A group of them.” Their mismatched steps were growing louder with every passing second. But no one was talking. Not until someone slipped, causing a few rocks to skitter and a few curses to come tumbling out. Derek finds himself relaxing when he heard Peter grumbling under his breath about being used as a cushion by the twins. 

Stiles must hear the echo of the comment because he froze next to him. His hand dug painfully to Derek’s forearm, tightening until Derek pressed his hand on top of Stiles'. A shaky breath rattled out of Stiles' before he called out, voice shaking a little, “Dad? Are you there?”

Silence rang in their ears for a few seconds, as clear as Sunday church bells. Stiles’ hand went slack in disappointment before it suddenly jerked when a voice echoed back, “Stiles? Is that you?”

“Dad!” Stiles leaped forward, joy filling his voice. 

The suddenness with which Stiles moved took Derek by surprise. Thankfully, Isaac reacted faster and darted forward to grab the human by the wrist and hiss, “You can’t go running into the dark! Do you want to fall into a gorge somewhere and break your neck? Wait for them to come to us!”

That’s not how Derek would have put it but he agreed. The sharpness in Isaac’s voice turned some of Stiles’ joy into anger and irritation. He glanced back into the dark, longing clearly etched into his face. Derek reached out to pull Stiles back half a step. “It wouldn’t make sense for you to get hurt now. Come on. Let’s wait for them outside.”

After he had gently pushed Stiles through the vines, Derek quietly murmured to Isaac, “Stay close to Stiles. We don’t know if that’s really his dad or not.”

He didn’t have to explain himself further to Isaac. His friend nodded quickly, moving to follow Stiles. Derek glanced back once more before returning into the sunlight. Stiles stood like statue a couple of steps away from the entrance, staring the green vines down. Derek found himself bracing himself for the possibility that this could be a trap - either to get Stiles or for someone else to gain access to the city again. He stepped next to Stiles and quietly reminded him, “You have to make sure it’s your dad first, okay? We don’t-”

“I know,” Stiles interrupted quickly, still watching the vines. “I get it. I’ll make sure it’s him before we let him go any further. I get what’s at stake here.”

With a quick nod and a reassuring shoulder squeeze, Derek stepped back. Isaac moved to stand behind Stiles while Boyd came to stand in front of Derek. They waited silently for the group, bodies tensing up when they didn’t have to use their supernatural senses to hear them. Stiles was all but vibrating in place when he heard someone call out, “We’re here.”

Derek let out a slow breath when he saw Deucalion pushing his way through the vines, blinking quickly as he adjusted to stepping into the light. He nodded at Derek upon seeing him, greeting him with a quick, “Derek. I didn’t expect Laura to send you.”

“I’m more of an escort right now,” Derek replied, gesturing with his head over at Stiles, who was staring wide eyed at the man stumbling through the vines. He’s taller than Stiles, with a weathered face and short hair. He had a kind face and a warm eyes. He was bundled up warmly, wearing a jacket similar to the one Stiles liked to wear.

The bewildered expression on the man's face transformed into stark amazement when he caught sight of Stiles. Shock transformed into unbridled relief. “Son?”

“Hey dad,” Stiles rasped. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect you to be lost for _almost a year_ when you said you were going on an expedition.” The man made to step towards Stiles but was stopped by Boyd. He glanced up at the werewolf, anger flashing in his eyes. “Step out of the way, son. I want to see if my kid’s alright.”

"Holy shit!" A new voice interrupted; feminine. 

"This is new," said the second new voice, masculine this time.

"Whoa!"

"Son of a _bitch_! You shove me one more time and I'll break your fucking- what the _hell_?"

Stiles did a hard double take when he saw who had just tumbled out of the cave. It was a dark skinned woman with wavy hair nd a man with sharp green eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. “_Melissa? __Chris_?”

The lady, Melissa, Derek was going to assume, stared back at Stiles. “Stiles? You’re really... That really _ was _ you?”

Stiles nodded, a fine tremble taking over his frame, “Yeah. That was me. What the hell are you doing here?”

Annoyance flashed through the woman’s dark eyes. It reminded Derek of his mother when one of them would ask a particular stupid question. But surprisingly, it wasn't Melissa who answered Stiles' question, it was his father. “What do you mean what the hell are we doing here? We came looking for you and the others!” 

Stiles' father took another a step forward but Boyd stopped him again, this time with an apologetic grimace. “We have to make sure you are who you say you are. Protocols."

Irritation flashed in the man’s pale eyes before he exhales and forced himself to take a step back. “I can respect that. How do you want me to prove I am who I say I am?”

Isaac pulled out a vial of clear liquid. “Simple truth serum will do the trick.”

The man held his hand out immediately. “How much do we need to drink?”

“A few drops each.” 

Stiles’ father nodded, uncorking the vial before letting two fat drops of the serum fall on his tongue. He swallowed before handing the bottle over to Melissa. She swallows her share before passing it onto Chris, who passed it onto the last man, a quiet blond man who was staring up in wonder at the sky. 

Stilinski senior meanwhile, crossed his arms as he faced them off. “Ask me anything."

“Are you really my dad?” Stiles asked, voice catching at the end of the question.

“Yes.”

“You’re not some other creature or person pretending to be Stiles’ dad?” Isaac asked.

“No.”

“You haven’t been influenced by any witch or creature? You’ve come here of your own free volition?” 

“Yes and yes.” The man maintained eye contact with Stiles through the small interrogation. “When I didn’t hear from Stiles for a few weeks I got worried. But it’s not the first time that’s happened so I didn’t look into it. But then I heard there was an avalanche and got scared. I tried to find whatever information I could about what happened but I kept being stonewalled. I asked Melissa if she’d heard anything from Scott but she didn’t know anything either. So we reached out to Chris to see if Allison'd called him too but nothing."

The green-eyed man, Chris, spoke. His voice was low and clear when he explained how he'd gone to the main Argent office to try to get more information for the expedition but had come away with nothing. "They kept saying that it was a confidential expedition and they couldn't tell us anything. Then after a few months, they declared you all dead but we didn’t give up hope. We started saving up money to organize a trip of our own and that's when Jackson came to help.” Chris nodded at the sullen looking blond standing at the rear of the group. He had been silently watching the proceedings with the air of a man who had a day old fish under his nose and was waiting for someone to remove it because he couldn’t be deigned to touch it himself. 

It was a little odd that he was just... listening to this whole conversation and not talking. In fact, the more Derek focused on him, the more something felt... _ wrong _ about him. Similar to pack but distorted. Definitely not human. Speaking of which, a similar skin-crawling feeling was coming from the last man as well. He looked as "boy next door" as you could imagine with his dark hair and dimples but it also felt like there more to him than what Derek could see. But in the opposite way to the blond. 

“Wait, wait!” Stiles held up his hand and made a “back-up” motion. “Almost a year? We’ve only been here for... oh. _ Shit _. I forgot. How long have been here Derek?”

Pulled out of his study of the strangers, Derek glanced back at Boyd, who shrugged. “I’d guess around four months?”

He’d barely gotten that out before Stiles groaned and slapped his forehead. “I _ forgot_! Dad, time moves faster outside the valley. Fuck. I didn’t... we didn’t even think. So much happened since we got here.”

“So much you couldn’t even use the sat-phone to call and tell me you were alive?” The blond stranger, Jackson, asked dryly. 

Everyone’s eyes went to Stiles, who scowled back, "You think we wouldn't have used those if we could have? This whole place is magically shielding. No signal goes in or out, even sat-phone signals." Plus, in case you haven't noticed, _we’re in a valley_. And the snow only started to let up a couple of days ago... Which is when I’m guessing you started making your way up?”

“Yeah. That’s when Roger said it was safe to go up.”

Ah yes. Roger. The man in question stood at the end of the group, At the sound of his name, he shot Derek a sheepish little smile. "I bet Alpha Hale's pissed with me right?"

“Laura is, yes.”

Rogers' good-humored expression crumpled in pain. His broad shoulders sagged. “It’s true then. She really died.”

Derek nodded stiffly. Roger exhaled, voice tinged with regret. “My condolences. She was a great leader. We’re all going to miss her.”

“Can we move on already?” Jackson drawled in a bored voice. “I paid a fortune to get here so I can find someone to take this damn curse off me. How much longer is the welcome wagon gonna ride our asses?”

Right as everyone turned to glare at the man, Melissa sharply slapped him upside his head. “Honestly Jackson! Where are your manners? I’m sorry about him. Apparently he got bitten by some creature but the transformation went wrong and he’s been trying to find a cure.” She blinked in surprise. “That truth serum is a lot more potent than I realized it would be.”

An ugly flush crawled up Jackson’s neck as he said to Melissa, “Where do you get off telling them that? It wasn’t for you to tell! I would have told them myself!”

“After antagonizing everyone and possibly ruining your chances of getting them to help,” the last stranger calmly pointed out. “You can’t solve all your problems by throwing money at them.”

Stiles pointed over at his dad “Can I hug my dad now? Can we agree it’s him?”

Derek looked over at the others, focusing more on Deucalion than the others who had finally stepped into the light as well. The alpha nodded, shifting out of the way as the men moved to grab each other in a tight hug. Derek moved to stand next to him, quietly asking, “Did Roger tell you why he agreed to bring these people up?”

Deucalion gestured at Jackson and the man next to him, “Those two aren’t human. I’m sure you’ve sensed that. Roger was sensitive enough to sense there was something different about them. When they showed him proof that they were supernatural beings, he agreed to bring them up.”

“And them?” Derek nodded over at Stiles’ father and Melissa, the latter having been pulled into the Stilinski men’s hug. 

“They refused to be left behind. They told Roger that their kids have come up the mountain with a larger expedition. Roger remembered that group but he wasn’t sure if they were speaking the truth or not. He hoped to run into one of us on the way up. Lucky for him we were and could corroborate their story.”

“Lucky for Stiles he’s got such a unique name,” Derek quietly tacked on. Raising his voice, Derek addressed Isaac and Boyd, “Can you two interrogate those two and make sure they’re okay for travelling to the city? I need to talk with Deucalion.”

Boyd and Isaac pulled Jackson and the other man to the side, far enough away for Derek and the other alpha to converse without being overheard. Similarly, Deucalion turned to his pack and told them, “Go on. Check in with your packs, make sure your families are okay.”

Once they’re alone, Derek asked, “Did you find any more of Argent’s people on the mountains?”

“No. The handful that had managed to escape into the caves died somewhere in the dark. It’s a kinder death than what we would have given them.”

Derek couldn’t help but grow lowly in agreement. “Any sign of more of their people coming?”

“Not so far. As Stilinski said, apparently the company declared the expedition a complete failure and have declared all members dead. A distant relative has taken over charge of the company but she seems more interested in pulling the company out of the hole Gerard had worked it into.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gerard Argent may have been a lot of things but he wasn’t a good businessman. He let his personal vendetta against us cloud his better judgement. He’d ignored a good part of the business, going so far as to embezzle money out of his own company to fund his expedition. That was on top of some significant loans he’d taken out from banks with the business as collateral. His successor has her work cut out for her.”

Derek frowned faintly, “Are we sure she isn’t a hunter as well?”

“There’s no guarantee of it,” Deucalion shook his head. “I did send someone to infiltrate the company and see what he could find.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It just means he’s going to be working as her PA for a few months. Maybe hack into her computer, see if he can find anything in her office or home that might give away she’s a hunter. As soon as I get that report, I’ll bring it for you and Laura to see.” 

Derek nodded, distracted by the sight of Peter pulling away from the others to stand next to Isaac and Boyd. Deucalion followed his gaze before letting out a soft noise. “Didn’t he have a chance to interrogate them on the way in?” Derek couldn’t help but ask.

“He did. But I think Talia’s death weighs heavy on him. Guilty conscious.” 

Derek was keenly familiar with that feeling. But he couldn’t understand why Peter would feel Talia’s death more keenly than anyone else. Or maybe it was simply a younger brother feeling he had let his older sister down. Derek exhaled slowly, asking in an even lower tone, “How was he?”

“He tracked the escaped humans with a vengeance. Each time he was disappointed to find them dead at the bottom of a gorge. Other than that... he’s been the same old Peter. Just quieter. More sharp tongued than usual.”

When he noticed that Isaac and Boyd were beginning to guide the humans towards Stiles, his father, and Melissa, Derek told Deucalion, “Have dinner with us tonight. I’m sure Laura will want to talk to you in detail about what’s happening on the outside. As well as about Peter.”

“Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

* * *

Stiles was a little upset he didn’t have a camera to take a picture of the moment when Melissa and Chris walked into the study to meet Scott and Allison as the couple walked into Laura's study. It was a picture perfect visual definition of 'being dumbstruck.'

“Dad?" "Scott?" "Allison?" “Mom?”

With a wordless noise of joy, Melissa was out of her chair and racing to the door to grab her son and daughter-in-law in a tight hug. Chris was hot on her heels, joining the hug with a breathless laugh. The foursome clung to each other, laughing and crying before pulling away to shoot rapid-fire questions at each other. How are you? How'd you get here? Where the hell have you been?

Their conversation was interrupted when someone threw the door open and clipped Scott’s body. The werewolf turned to the door with a snarl, flashing his fangs at an unimpressed Peter. “Put those away,” the older werewolf told him with a dismissive eye-roll. “You need to have better control over your instincts if every minor inconvenience makes you wolf out.”

“Scott...” Melissa’s voice shook, like the hand she raised to hover near Scott’s cheek. “What..?”

Scott froze at her voice. Stiles took a step forward, not sure what to expect when Chris' eyes widened with fear and understanding. Fuck. Argent. He probably knew what Scott was. Question was, was he going to act like a bigot or was he going to accept Scott and Allison.

“Mom. Don’t freak out. It’s a long story an-”

"Werewolf," Chris breathed out. "You're a werewolf. I thought..."

“I think you should sit down before we tell you what happened.” Allison interrupted, guiding both parents back to their seats. She shot her dad a hard look that said 'We're going to need to talk about what you just said.' and Stiles couldn't help but wince because _that _was going to be an _awkward _conversation. 

“All things considered,” Stiles said while standing with his dad, Derek, and Laura. “that’s not the worst reaction to have.”

His dad however, was staring in slack jawed shock at Scott’s face, which smoothly morphed back to his human face. “What... What just...”

Stiles jazz hands’d at the pair before gesturing over at Scott, “Werewolves are real and Scott’s one!”

“Stiles...” Laura scowled at him in clear disapproval.

Gesturing between the small group, Stiles complained, “There was literally no hiding that! She literally saw his “grr!” face!”

“That’s not...” Derek exhaled, closing his eyes to gather himself before trying again in a more pained voice, “Grr face?”

Sighing tiredly, Laura ignored his question completely and instead said, “I _ meant _ you could have told _ his mother _and _father-in-law _that in _gentler _way.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue on sheer principle before realizing that Laura was right. That was _ probably _pretty damn insensitive of him. Thankfully however, Melissa didn’t seem to care. She was too busy stumbling grabbing Scott, bombarding with questions about his health before pulling her son in his arms in a bear hug that made the older woman yelp and laugh. Chris meanwhile looked like you could bowl him over with a feather.

Stiles turned his attention to the two newcomers, the blond and the brunet. One of them looked like a jerk and the other looked as wholesome as apple pie. Stiles wasn’t sure if he trusted either of them. Sliding closer to Derek, Stiles asked lowly, “What’s _ their _story?” 

“They’re both not human if that’s what you’re asking,” Derek answered in the same low voice. “One of them is under a curse of some kind. The other... I don’t know what he is. I’ve never felt a presence like this before.”

Interest gleamed in Stiles’ eyes as he eyed the pair. “A curse and a mystery huh? They’ll fit right in.”

“Can we...” his dad began while rubbing his forehead like he was trying to rub his headache away. “Stiles. Can you tell me what happened? From the start?”

“From the _ very _start?”

When his dad nodded, Stiles looked to Laura for permission. When the alpha nodded, Stiles gestured over at the chairs next to the couch the McCall’s were taking up. “You better sit down for this. It's a pretty long story.”

“Derek, can you take Jackson and Parrish to Deaton?” When Derek nodded, Laura turned to the pair and told them. “He’s our pack Emissary. He’ll help you out.”

“Does that include figuring out what I am exactly?” the dark haired man asked. 

The question had Stiles’ eyebrows shooting up to his hairline because _ what _? Did this guy not... how was that even possible? Unfortunately, Stiles didn’t have the chance to ask this guy his questions because Laura nodded and made to follow Derek out the door. Oh. She wasn't going to stick around for this? 

“We’ll let you all talk. There'll be someone at the door in case you need anything.”

Scott shot her a grateful smile. "Thank you Alpha Hale.”

Laura's smile was a crooked little thing. She still hadn't gotten used to her title. Stiles hoped the pain of losing Talia would soften one day. He exhaled as Laura left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As soon as they were alone, his dad turned to them and said, in his best Sheriff voice, “Tell us what happened.”

It was a messy story, filled with all of them jumping in to interrupt with corrections and other details that may have been forgotten. While his dad maintained an unwavering stoic expression, Chris looked one wrong comment away from having a stroke and Melissa’s expression kept changing. Her eyes were wide and fearful when they spoke of the creature that hunted them at night. Her grip on Scott’s hand tightened to the point of making Scott wince when they got to the part where Scott had had his accident. Her lips parted in amazement when they spoke of the curse. 

"That's all..." his dad started before trailing off.

"Pretty fucking fantastical." Chris finished with a soft laugh. He dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes before he turned to Allison with a pained expression. "And they're dead? You're sure of that?"

"We saw gra- Gerard die in front of us. And Aunt Kate... it was a public execution." Allison's voice shook and trembled as she spoke. A tear slipped out of the corner of one eye when Scott squeezed her thigh. "We didn't attend but... we were told it was... she's gone."

Chris let out a wounded noise before he reached out to touch her hair. "I'm sorry you went through that. I never wanted that life for you. I'm _so _sorry Allison."

With a mighty sob, Allison turned into her father's shoulder and wept. Chris wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her as she fell apart. Over her head, Chris' eyes met Scott's. For a moment, everyone held their breath. Stiles' fingers dug into the chair's arms, ready to jump to Scott's defense. But the hurt in Chris' eyes was lightened for a moment when he whispered, "Thank you. For everything."

Scott's lips turned up into a weak grin. "I'm the one who should be thanking her honestly. She helped me get through the worst of the transition. And I've still got a lot to learn."

Melissa started a little at Scott’s words, glancing between everyone before tentatively asking, “Scott... you’re... you’re not planning on staying here... are you?”

Big brown eyes blink in surprise before Scott snorts out a laugh. “No! What made you think that?”

“You said...You said that werewolves and other creatures stayed here...”

“To protect themselves. There’s a lot of other supernatural creatures who’re living out there with humans and human don’t know about it. We’re not planning on staying here.”

When his dad’s eyes turn to him, wordlessly asking if that was true, Stiles nodded. “The plan was always to return after a while. That plan just... got delayed because of the whole... you know. Attempted genocide thing. And we kind of forgot about how time moves faster inside here. Things got really wild in the middle and then we got caught up trying to help everyone get back on their feet and cracking this curse...”

He couldn’t but smile a little at the obvious relieved sigh his dad let out. Scott however, was gazing at him with a complicated expression. Stiles almost asked what was bothering his friend when Chris asked if they could eat something. And then maybe check out the rest of the town? Melissa and his dad readily agreed. When the food arrived, Stiles forgot about the odd way Scott had been watching him when he’d talked about leaving. It wasn’t until they were alone, after they’d shown the parentals to their own little cabin, that Scott finally gave words to his worry.

“You’re not going to stay here?”

“It’s been a long ass day for the old folks, I figured I’d let them turn in early,” Stiles answered, sticking his hands into his jeans as they walked down the road to their own cabin. He glanced over at Scott, who was frowning faintly at him, “What?”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, you’re not going to stay _ here_? In Haven?” Scott gestured around them, at the valley and the city.

Stiles frowned in return, asking, “Why would I stay?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe because this is the city you’ve been chasing after _ your whole life_? You practically dedicated your entire _ career _towards finding this place. And now that you’re here, you’re honestly telling me you’re gonna walk away from it?” After a beat, Scott continues, and asks in a lower voice, “You’re going to just walk away from Derek?”

Stiles tipped his head back and sighed up at the stars. That was a question that had been bugging him for weeks now. “I’m gonna have to. I can’t just _ stay _ here. I’ve got a life out there. Family. A _ job_. I can’t... just...”

“Sure you can. If that’s what you want to do then you _ can_, Stiles.” Scott stopped him with one hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn on his heel to face his best friend. “Your biggest link to the outside was your dad. And he’s here now. You haven’t met your mom’s family for ages. You hated your job. What’s stopping you from staying here?”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue back but nothing came out. He honestly, a rarity, didn’t have an answer to Scott’s question. Encouraged by Stiles’ silence, Scott continued, “You’re seriously telling me you can walk away from Derek?”

That’s something he had an answer or at least.

“No! I’m not! I thought... I thought we’d figure out a way to reverse the curse and I’d... we’d take Derek out with us. To explore the world or something.” 

Scott eyed him critically. “You thought Derek’d be willing to leave his family behind for you? Stiles... That’s...”

Waving his hand, Stiles corrected his best friend, “Not _ leave his family behind_! Just. Join us for a short trip. I wanted to show Derek how much things’ve changed. He’s been forced to stay here because of his curse. I thought he’d like having the chance to go out and explore. Maybe even go back to Ireland and see what happened to the old family lands and shit. I don’t want to take him away _forever._ Jesus, Scott.”

Silence stretched between them for a few seconds before Scott asked, a lot more tentatively this time around, “You honestly don’t want to stay here? I mean. Isn’t this your dream place?”

Stiles considered the question before answering, carefully choosing his words. “I’ve wanted to find this place since I was a kid, sure. But I never once thought I’d want to _ stay_. Not _ forever_.”

“Never?” Scott asked with unbridled curiosity.

“Never,” Stiles repeated. A thought suddenly occurred to him, making him turn to the other man with a sharp look. “Don’t tell me you want to stick around.”

Scott scratched the back of his head. “Honestly? I kinda feel like I _ gotta_. My control still isn’t the best. It’s going to take some more time until I can go out there and not feel like I’ll accidentally show my game face to some unsuspecting human. And I gotta admit, sometimes I think about how cool it’d be to stay here and not worry that I might hurt someone because I’ve got claws and fangs. Not to mention how amazing it’d be to be in a society that accepts you and you don’t have to hide. But... Allison’s got her family on the outside. Plus the whole Argent business.”

“Chris can always take over,” Stiles pointed out. “Hell. I bet Chris _ is _the one who’ll take over the family.”

“That still means we’ll be on a time table. Eventually, we’d have to return to the outside too. I can’t ask Allison to give her up her whole life, her family, just for me. Plus there’s my mom and _ my _family...” Scott sighed, sticking his hands deep inside his jean pockets. “As much as I’d like to stay here? I gotta go back eventually.” Scott turned to look at Stiles with a wry smile. “I just thought you might want to stay and I’d hate to say goodbye to my best friend.” 

Taking a step to his right, Stiles bumped shoulders with Scott before throwing his arm around the other man’s shoulders. “Na. I’m not leaving you behind buddy.”

“What about Derek though? Have you guys talked about... you know. When everything’s said and done.”

Stiles couldn’t stop himself from grimacing because, “No. We haven’t. We’ve been kinda accidentally on purpose not talking about the future. We’re making progress with the curse every day but there’s still a ways to go with Derek. So we’re taking it a day at a time.”

“So you haven’t talked about it.”

Stiles held up his free hand in a mix of exasperation and a plea for understanding. “What am I supposed to say Scott? “Hey Derek, once the curse is gone, do you wanna come with me on the outside for a world tour? You’ll just have to leave your family behind for, oh I don’t know, _ years _?”” With a snort, Stiles let his hand drop against his thigh with a soft slap. “Can’t imagine that going well.”

“You won’t know till you try.”

Sighing, Stiles let his hand drop from Scott’s shoulder as they got to their own cabin. Perhaps because it was just them under the darkness that it was easier to admit to his deepest fear. In a low voice, Stiles said, “I’m scared Scott. What if he says no.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Scott reassured him with a back pat.

“Scott...” Stiles sighed.

But Scott interrupted him, “Do you love the guy?”

“I do.”

“You wanna be with him?”

“Yeah.”

“And does he love you and wanna be with you?”

“Yeah but-”

“Then you’ll figure it out,” Scott finished firmly with a nod. 

He couldn’t help but smile a little at Scott’s faith. Same way he couldn’t help but point out, “You know sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“True. But you guys like... have been through so much shit in such a short amount of time. And if you can make it through that then trying to figure out what’s basically gonna be a long-distance relationship? It’s child’s play.”

Stiles laughed at the description, opening the front door to their cabin as he asked, “Seriously? That’s all it is?”

“It sure as hell reminds me of the first time me and Allison were trying to figure out which family to spend Christmas with and who to spend Thanksgiving with, yeah.” Scott grinned back.

He glanced around the living room even as he wiped his boots clean on the mat. There was no sign of Allison or Lydia. But then the kitchen door opened and Allison peered out with a curious expression, which brightened upon the sight of them. “Hey boys. Food’s almost ready. You want to set the table?”

“Sure thing,” Stiles agreed while Scott hopped on one foot as he attempted to pull his boot off. “Is it gonna be the four of us?”

“Three,” Allison corrected as she slipped back into the kitchen. 

“Lydia isn’t gonna eat with us? Stiles, help me out please?” Scott asked. Stiles obligingly offered his shoulder to his friend as he tried to toe his own shoes off unsuccessfully. Scott leaned on Stiles as he tugged his laces loose before finally pulling the offending shoe off.

Allison’s voice carried through the wood as she yelled back, “Nope! She’s out.”

Stiles paused in the middle of his efforts to yell back, “Out where?”

Scott ambled over to the kitchen in his socked feet, pushing the door open right as Allison answered back, “Deaton asked her to help him figure out what Parrish was _ and _help him fix Jackon’s problem.”

“Jackson’s problem?” Stiles asked, putting his shoes to the side with the others’ shoes before following Scott. “I thought he was under a curse?”

“It’s not so much as a curse as much as a botched transformation apparently. Scott, can you hand me that bowl? The big blue one?”

“Here you go,” Scott plopped the bowl next to the pot from which a delightful smell was emanating. A stew of some kind of Stiles had to guess. “He’s a werewolf too?”

“No,” Allison shook her head. “A werewolf _ did _bite him but something went wrong and he become... something else. Someone figured out that when Jackson was turned he could follow orders and made him kill someone. As soon as Jackson figured out what was going on, he made a run for it. Being that far away from that person broke their influence I guess.”

“That’s majorly messed up.” Stiles pulled bowls out of the cabinets while Scott unwrapped half a loaf of bread out and began to slice it into large, thick cuts. “Did Deaton say there was some way to undo the transformation?”

Allison shook her head as she ladled the stew into the large bowl. “There’s no way to reverse it. But there _ is _a way to help Jackson turn into a proper werewolf.”

“And what about the other guy?” Scott asked as he plated the bread up and placed it in the middle of the dining table. “Parrish? Any leads on what he could be?”

“Hale family’ve got their bets on a fire spirit of some kind.” Stiles offered.

Frowning before he took hold of the stew bowl, Scott said, “I heard he could be a hell hound.”

“My bet’s on a pheonix,” Allison added with a grin.

Stiles snorted as they took their seats. “Phoenix? Come on! They went extinct thousands of years ago! It’s impossible.”

Allison grinned back, “Says the guy who staked his entire career on proving the existence of a city that _ everyone _said was a myth.”

He couldn’t help but gape at Allison for a few seconds before grumbling, “Touche. But phoenix sounds a _ little _out there, you gotta admit.”

“Magical city everyone thought was a _fairy tale_.” Allison repeated.

* * *

Derek paused before he took his shirt off, watching Stiles carefully sit down in his usual seat with a peculiar look on his face. It seemed like Stiles had something on his mind. Something that was causing him some anxiety if the way he was picking at his nail was anything to go by. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Stiles started before making a face that looked something between annoyed, amused, and amazed. “Deaton and Lydia finally figured out what Parrish is.”

“A phoenix from what I heard.” Derek nodded. “What about it?”

Letting out a strangled noise, Stiles gestured wildly as he asked, “Isn’t that _ crazy _?”

Derek shrugged before pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside. “Not really.”

“But phoenix’s were thought to be _ extinct_! The last known documented case of a phoenix sighted was back in the 1400’s!”

He couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow at Stiles’ disbelieving expression before wriggling his clawed fingers under the human’s nose. “Werewolf. Human’s think we got wiped out and this city doesn’t exist. It’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened here.”

Stiles sighed a little too dramatically, birthing warm amusement in Derek’s chest. “Why does no one else _ get _ how freaking _ wild _this is?”

“Probably because you’re in a magical city that’s filled with all kinds of magical creatures, including some that are considered legends and nothing more than mythical beings.” 

His dry tone pulled Stiles’ lips down in an unamused frown. He muttered something like, “Be that way” before rubbing his hands together. “Let’s work on the curse. I want to get this big tangle out of the way today.”

By this point, the process was practically rote for them. Write the rune, activate it, use a slight variation on the healing magic, and begin pulling the curse threads away from Derek’s essence. They'd untangled more than half of the curse and Stiles was getting faster at the process every day. Derek was looking forward to the day where he'd have full control over his shift again.

"Uh, listen. I wanted to ask you something..." Stiles began as he started to roll his sleeves up. _Here we go, _Derek resigned himself to some bad news when Stiles avoided his eye. He braced himself to be told that Stiles was going to tell him that he was going to leave with his dad. He was going to leave Derek behind. He- "I was thinking... well, more like I was hoping. Or like, desperately wishing actually. That uh...you know my dad wants to go back eventually. Sure he's retired and we're not really in touch with any family. We're each other's family and have been that way since my mom died when I was kid so it's not like there's a lot to go back to, even for me when you take into account how shitty that analyst job was but... my dad wants to go back eventually and uhhh... he asked if I wanted to go back."

When Stiles took a deep breath, Derek closed his eyes and told himself that a broken heart wasn't the worst fate. Better to have loved and lost, right? "I was wondering if you'd want to go with me?" Stiles blurted out in one breath.

Derek's eyes flew open in surprise to look straight into Stiles' hopeful gaze. "What?" he asked dumbly.

"I was thinking that once I'm done with the curse, I'd love it if you came with me. There's so much I want to show you but I don't want you to think it's something you _have _to do. It's a big thing leaving your family for like, _years_. That's not easy, especially because you've been here practically for hundreds and hundreds of years and it'll be a huge fucking culture shock to go out there."

There was a ringing in Derek's ears that grew faint when he asked, rather dumbly, "You're not going to break up with me? Before you leave?"

"_What? No!_" Stiles exclaimed, taking hold of Derek's hands immediately. "I don't want to do that! If you want me to stay I'd like to stay but I... I really... Fuck! Not to be cheesy but I want to show you the world! It's what you deserve."

Derek felt weak. This was... Here he was thinking, preparing for the worst when all Stiles had been planning was growing Derek's world. He couldn't stop himself from grabbing Stiles' face and kissing him, as hard and lovingly as he could. Derek poured all his affection into the act, wanting Stiles to understand how _much _he loved him. "I love you," Derek breathed out. "And _when _you're done? I'd love to go out there with you."

Stiles' face brightened with such a beautiful smile that Derek had to kiss him again and tug him down to bed.

* * *

“Ready?” Stiles asked Derek as he rolled his sleeve up in preparation of pushing his hand into Derek.

The werewolf took a fortifying breath before exhaling, “Yeah.”

_ Think of dipping your hand into a still body of water. Be as smooth as possible. Minimum ripples. _ Stiles told himself, focusing on that mental image as he pressed the tips of his fingers against Derek’s chest and murmured the activation words.

Heat warmed his fingertips, growing in intensity as he concentrated on pushing through the skin and sinewy until he touched a silvery vein and felt it pulse against his skin. Opening his eyes, Stiles continued to push forward until he was touching the dark veins around Derek’s heart. While Derek’s essence felt cool like the chill of a fall night, the curse felt, for the lack of a better word, _ slimy_. It was like accidentally stepping in dog shit or finding a piece of gum stuck under your table. But _worse_. It was the physical equivalent of that fermented shark fin food. It caused a shudder to run down Stiles’ spine and made him want to go _ "Yuck _” as intensely as possible. But he pushed that urge down, instead focusing on finding the edge of one of the cursed tendrils and gently prying it away from the silvery veins it was curled around. Stiles frowned a little when his selected tendril didn’t snap after a few tugs. 

_ Huh, _ Stiles wondered as he examined the dark thread carefully. _ This one’s a little thicker than the rest. _Curiously, he pulled harder on the thread, fingering his way back in the hopes of finding the base of the thread and yanking it out like a weed. “Come on you fucker,” Stiles grumbled as the thread grew longer and longer, tightening close to two inches in length before there was no more give. The base was in the heart of the cluster and it didn’t seem like Stiles could pull the thread out as a whole. Not without first untangling the clustered mess.

_ Come on, come on! Unravel you stupid piece of shit! Why do you have to be so freaking difficult! Just- _

“Whoa!” Stiles yelped in surprise when his prayers were seemingly answered and the thread, all of it, if the tangled mess of roots on the other were any indication, pulled out of the cluster. Stiles blinked at the thread dangling between his fingers, ignoring the way it turned from oily black to an ashy grey before it crumbled to nothingness, focusing instead on how the silver glow of Derek’s heart was intensifying. It grew so bright that Stiles had to squint. Derek’s hand flew up to his chest, body bending forward with a pained noise.

“Derek?” Stiles asked in alarm, touching the werewolf’s shoulder. But Derek didn’t reply. Stiles’s eyes flew wide when he saw Derek’s claws retract, transforming into a human hand. The silver glow had turned into a pure white light, temporarily blinding Stiles and making him unable to see Derek as the man tipped forward onto his knees with a louder cry. Spots danced in front of his eyes and they refused to go away no matter how hard Stiles blinked. But soon enough, they began to fade and Stiles finally caught sight of Derek. Who was kneeling on the floor, legs spread wide, staring in wonder at his human hands.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Derek’s human visage. Fuck. _He'd done it! They'd done it!_ The sound caught Derek’s attention, causing pale eyes to dart up at him. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed out. “You have the prettiest fucking eyes.”

Derek’s hand came up to touch his cheek, his brow, before he asked, voice shaking at the end, “Did it work?”

“Yeah!” Stiles breathed out, falling down in front of Derek to touch his face. The urge to break out into laughter and get up and dance clashed in him. Stiles ignored both and instead traced the shape of Derek’s jaw, unhindered by the extra hair and the lack of eyebrows. A manic grin spread over his face, making Stiles’ cheeks hurt as he said, “We did it!”

Dry warm hands rose up to cup his face. Shock was fading away in Derek’s hazel-green eyes, being replaced with giddy wonder and joy that made Stiles want to dance. “_You _ did it,” the man corrected him. “_You _did it, Stiles.”

And before Stiles could say anything, kissed his arguments away.

* * *

Derek paused for a moment on top of the hill, ignoring the hustle and bustle going on around him as they wrapped up camp. His heart raced with excitement and nerves. The last time he'd stood here, they'd been running for their lives. And now? He was going back out into the world. He turned to face the village on the foot of the mountain, heart racing in nervous anticipation as he wondered what lay in his future.

“Better finish wrapping up your tent and gear, Derek,” Stiles reminded him as he puttered by with a pail full of water. “Chris is gonna leave us behind if we don’t hurry up.”

He doubted it but Derek kept that opinion to himself. Instead he made a vague noise of agreement, turning back to the task at hand. Finish wrapping up his tent, clean his utensils, pack his gear, and complete the last leg of their journey down the other side of the mountain. As he pulled his backpack on, Derek peered up the mountains. He hoped Laura and the others were doing well. Isaac pressed against his side, murmuring, “They’ll be alright. You know nothing really happens in the town. And the Emissary’s have put another barrier up around the valley. It’s stronger than the one before so no one with _ any _bad intentions will be able to come in, alpha’s blessings be damned. They’ll be safe.”

Derek nodded at the reminder, relieved beyond words that the Emissary’s had been able to complete their task before he’d joined Stiles on their journey. He felt safer leaving once the barrier spell was activated. But it still didn’t stop his paranoia from going nuts. What if they’d missed someone? What if one of Argat’s people were hiding in the forest? What if there was a fire? What if there was a civil war? What if-

Stiles slapped his back as he ambled up next to Derek. “Don’t get too lost in your head. You might trip over something and break something.” More softly so that no one else could overhear, the humans at least, Stiles asked, “You ready to see what the world has to offer?”

With a weak smile, Derek replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be. I’m not sure what to expect.”

“Expect a lot of noise, a lot of fast talking, and a whole lot of over stimulation. But we’ll take it slow.” Stiles grinned at him, taking hold of Derek’s hand as they walked shoulder to shoulder down the dusty pathway. “I still can’t believe you decided to come with us.”

His smile grew stronger and he squeezed Stiles’ hand back. “Couldn’t let you walk away.”

“Wasn’t ever gonna let that happen.”

“You wouldn’t have _ stayed _in the city though.”

“I would have for you,” Stiles promised, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. “Like I’m going to walk away from the guy I love. You’re stuck with me buddy. That’s your new curse.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

Stiles grinned broadly at him, letting their joined hands swing a little between them as they walked in companionable silence for a short stretch. Derek took the time to think back on his conversation with Laura, where he sat down with her to talk to her about joining Stiles and his group on their trek to the outside world. It had been a difficult conversation, on multiple levels. It had been hard on both of them to accept Derek’s decision to go back outside after all these decades. Both their protective pack instincts, especially so soon after their mother’s death, went mildly haywire in the few days it took to Derek to get his gear together. Most importantly however, Derek felt like he owed it to his mother to take her cremated remains back to Ireland. If he was really lucky, he may find out where his father and other family members were buried and lay his mother to rest with them. Stiles had promised to help in that regard as well. _ After _he’d shown Derek Disneyland apparently.

He glanced over at Stiles, watched him raise a hand up to shield his eyes as he peered into the distance at the village that grew larger with every lazy turn of the dusty path. They would be at the village before nightfall, just as planned. Roger, who was leading their group, would be pleased. He never liked coming up to the city. He said he hated how much time he lost with his family every time he spent more than a few days in Haven.

“You ready for this?”

Stiles’ quiet question pulled him back into the moment. Derek peered into his lovers dark eyes and smiled softly. “I’ll be fine as long as you’re with me.”

A few feet behind, he heard Scott mumble, “Were we that bad?”

A soft slapping noise and a soft, “Ow” was followed by Allison quietly chiding her husband. “Don’t be mean. It’s sweet.”

Ignorant of this conversation, Stiles’ face glowed with happily. He raised Derek’s hand and kissed the warm skin. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know. And I’ll take care of you too.”

“Counting on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks! I started this fic literally 5 years ago and now, it's all posted! 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Thank you to every single person who helped me brain storm, edit, and generally improve this fic. You made this happen <3


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